Concentration Gradient
by passion23
Summary: Harry Potter goes back in time...
1. Chapter 1

Concentration Gradient

Chapter One

"I gotta do this Albus," Harry said in Dumbledore's office, his hair matted with sweat and blood, his left eye cut apart and looking generally ragged.

"I know Harry but it is very dangerous," Albus grimly replied. "You don't know the sacrifices..."

"I know, I'll lose my soul," Harry said. "I don't care, Albus. If Voldemort wins... I can't let it happen!"

"I understand," Albus took out a golden chain from the drawer of his desk. "Here, take it. My life's work."

"Are you certain this will work? Are you sure this will take me back in time to an alternate universe?"

"Very sure, Harry. Just trust me. But I wish you wouldn't do this," Albus sighed and rubbed his blue eyes, which had lost the twinkle over the years.

Harry, thirty years old, unmarried, was at the point of a nervous breakdown. He was exhausted from fighting Voldemort practically twenty four seven, and he knew he wouldn't last long. Albus had long since lost most of his magical ability. The only reason he was still alive was because of Voldemort. Now when Harry would go back in time and fix EVERYTHING Albus could finally get his rest. It would be worth giving his soul for this. Going back in time and fixing everything would finally give peace to Harry and all of his friends, and the order members and everyone who had suffered from Voldemort's hand.

"So, what do you think will happen?" Harry asked after a minute of silence.

"What do you mean Harry?"

"What'll happen to me after my soul is lost?"

Albus sighed. "I don't know, Harry, I just don't know. Look, I don't even know how far you are going back in time for godsakes!"

Harry felt his eyes widening. It was the first time he had ever heard Albus snap at him. He must be really worried.

"Okay, whatever, I'll take the risk," Harry said and reached for the chain. Albus pulled the chain back.

"No, Harry, I don't think you realize the consequences of-"

"I'll be fine," Harry said shortly. "Don't worry, Albus. How long have we known each other for?"

"Ever since you were eleven," Albus muttered. "I've been training you all these years so you wouldn't have to make the kind of sacrifice you are suggesting now."

"Well it wasn't enough was it?" Harry snapped.

"When you go back, what will you do?" Albus asked.

"Easy, I'll kill Voldemort," Harry said.

"Its not so simple, what if you end up in an alternate universe?"

"Well then, I don't know!" Harry ran his hands through his bloody hair. "The battle at Diagon alley was the last straw Albus. Hermione died, Ron's dead, Ginny's dead, Remus's dead, they're all dying."

"I know that, but your soul is-"

"screw my damn soul, Albus. Just give me the chain."

"Alright, fine," Albus slowly and hesitatingly handed the chain to Harry. THere was a little round clock that hung from the chain. Harry put it on, and pressed the sides of the little clock.

The room spun around and all was lost.

Harry awoke to a storm raging above his head. He felt stiff and he hurt all over. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking away the clepatheris that had clogged up at its sides and looked around. He was in an open valley surrounded by trees and grassland. Birds chirped high in the air, and he even saw a monkey jumping from limb to limb. The air smelt fresh and clear, and looking above he could easily see it was early morning. He was laying on a nice soft patch of grass, and the thing was as he looked around he saw something very very important.

He was naked. He wore nothing, not even that golden time turner chain, and he didn't even have his wand on him. He was basically screwed.

Harry was always a very logical kind of person. Hermione's personality had rubbed off him it seemed. So immediately he made a mental list on what he needed and what he should do. First of all he didn't know where he was. Hell he didn't even know if the time turner thing had actually worked. What if it had sent him in the future instead of the past? That would be disasterous to say the least because that way he wouldn't be able to change anything and that was the main reason he was giving up his soul.

Secondly, he didn't feel any different, and that just added to his fears. What if he hadn't lost his soul? That meant something had gone wrong with the time turner. He hoped that wasn't true.

He started to get up and walk around. There was no path so he had to slip through the branches and the bushes and all that vegetation crap. He got cuts all across his body. When he was admiring a particularly large gash made by a throned branch he noticed something else: His body was new.

He had been battling for his life all his… well… life. He knew how to fight, he knew how to kill and he knew hurt and pain. He knew scars, gashes, gouges, burns, acid burns, knife wounds, curse wounds, accidental magic wounds. He knew it all.

His body was like a newborn. There was no scars on it, no signs of all that hurt and pain. Harry had worn it as a medal, all those scars and gashes, so he was peturbed that it was gone. He felt some inner part of him die at that discovery as a really stupid thought floated up to his mind. Will I have to go through all that again to get my body back?

He started laughing, just a nice pure childish laugh the likes of which he hadn't had in many a year. It was wonderful to be laughing again, because now he knew that there was a chance, a little very very little chance that theh time turner might have worked. Just might.

Albus Dumbledore always knew what he did, and always had his ancient fingers in every magical discovery since dragon blood. He would know or have some surety that it would work or he would never have let Harry try this.

Harry smiled, "Thanks Albus, I owe you one," he said to the forest about him. "Now lets see if I can get back to civilization again."

As he walked, he admired the plant life – there were golden flowers, purple and yellow flowers, thorny flowers, plants with mouths that tried to eat flies, plants with branches that moved, plants with…- andd the animal life, which ranged from humungoes green pythons to leaping gorrilas, and sloths sleeping on branches. In some ways this was much more miraculous than magic itself. He had been around magic all his life, but he had never really gotten close to nature. Well now was his chance.

He plucked a shiny plum from a low hanging branch and rubbed the dirt off it with his grubby palms. Then he bit into it. Red juice splurted out and dribbled down his chin. He finished the plum and ate another, and then another, and then another. After about a thouand plums or so, he started walking again and ten minutes later he had to stop because he got the worst cramp in his entire life.

That turned out to be the best thing ever, because from crouching down, he noticed something in the air, coming out in billowing clouds: smoke.

There was a fire somewhere, and where there was fire, there was civilization and where there was civilization there would be… magic.

He grinned, got up despite the pain and started walking again. He couldn't stop now. Not when victory was so close at hand. He knew sacrifice all his life – from food and drink, to sleep to his own safety. He gave his all in the fight against Voldemort, and had become strong. He could becom strong again despite this obviously new and younger body.

He had no idea how young. He was only five years old.

He reached the clearing where the smoke was floating upward from and cautiously examined the three men and two women and one baby sitting by the campfire. There was a little white trailer a few meters off, they were obviously camping.

Perfect, my ticket out of here, Harry thought and started forward, slowly and methodically. He was like a tiger, he didn't want to scare away his prey. Sneaking up to the campfire he finally made out their faces. Because he didn't have glasses, his far vision was kinda blurry so he couldn't have made out their faces from far away. But now he could see clearly because he was close by, and he could immediately tell that these folks here were no good peace loving dirty bunch of drugged hippies. He had met people of those kinds over the years and he always hated them because they never fought and they expected other people to fight for them.

But he squelched his hatred like it was a cockroach and decided to say hi.

They whirled around, gasping in alarm. Maybe they thought he was a bear or something, Harry didn't know, nor did he care.

"Take me to civilization, now," he commanded and expected them to obey. Well of course they didn't. What sort of maniac would obey orders from a naked five year old?

"Who are you, little boy?" Asked the old granny, who was holding a baby. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead," he replied flatly.

"Were you attacked by tribes or somethin?" asked one of the big muscular men who was quietly smoking a cigarette. He wore a red bandanna around his head and had a Jaimacan like figure. He had a moustache, and a big fat cigar clutched between yellow teeth. Harry instantly disliked him, not for any particular reason but just the general relaxed impression. It reminded him so much of those dirty bunch of hippie peace lovers that if he had a wand he would instantly start cursing them.

Of course he didn't have a wand. You could say he was wandless.

"Look, I don't know where the hell I am, I don't know how I got here, but I need to get some clothes on me and some food, alright?"

They nodded, almost too surprised to speak. Not the man with the cigar in his teeth though. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and blew smoke into Harry's face. "Listen up, kid, are there any warrior tribes nearby?"

"I didn't see any," Harry said.

"Well, that don't mean they aren't there, now does that?" The man said. "My name's Alred Mahone, this is my family. Now listen up you no good tourist punk, where the hell is your family?"

Harry decided to go with the flow and all that. "Yeah we got attacked. We were treking and ten of these naked guys with body paint all over them attacked us. They took us to a camp and were going to roast us alive but luckily I escaped."

"That's the shit we need to know," Alred Mahone said and then did something surprising. He pulled out a double barrel black shot gun from behind him, took a drag from his cigar and then spat it in the camp fire. "Come on, we need to go huntin" he said. The grandmother or old lady or whatever, but Harry thought it was a grandmother went to the trailer and came back without the baby but with a bunch of clothes. She threw it over the fire at Harry, who deftly caught it. Then in a firm voice she said, "Get dressed, you're coming with us."

"Who are you people?"

Alred smiled, "This is Dumbo and Bumbo," he said pointing to two black twins. They were big though, almost as big as Hagrid the half giant. "They can't speak but they can listen. Show em your tongue, boys."

Dumbo and Bumbo looked exactly alike, big and strong dressed in tattered jeans and stained with mud tee shirts. They both had these really vacant looks on their faces and Harry could see that they were high or something – their eyes were bloodshot and their pupils were way bigger than what it should have been. They opened their mouths in tandem and showed their tonges… or what was left of it.

"Cannibal tribes did that to them," Alred said. "And the woman over there" – he pointed to a rather pale but young looking woman – "she's my sister, Jenny, got kidnapped by those fuckers when she was just a little child. She don't speak no more, but my granny over there is teaching her."

"I see…" Harry said. "Where are we anyway?"

"Boy, you rich tourist folks don't have any sense of direction. This is the bloody amazon forest, how am I supposed to know where in blazed we are?" Alred shouted.

The granny smiled softly, "You got us lost, we were never supposed to be lost, y'hear." She was smiling but Harry sensed something strange about her, something just beneat the surface like an iceburg. He sensed-

He felt his eyes widen as he took her in, "You're a witch!" He blurted out. She gasped, her grey eyes magnifying.

"How the devil did you know that?" She muttered. "Course I'm a witch, but you shouldn't know that… unless… are your parents magical?"

"Yeah, I'm a child prodigy by the way," Harry said, smirking. "Accio wand."

The woman's wand came shooting out of the purse she was wearing over her polka dot dress. "No, stop, stop the brat!" She yelled to Alfred.

Harry was in his element now, he waved his wand over himself and conjured a very comfortable battle robe. Then he said, "Pagasu Rusin," while slashing his wand down in an arc.

A bright red sqaure shield the size of Dumbo and Bumbo together appeared in front of him, protecting him from several bullets that splattered out of Alred's shotgun. The shield held though. Harry lifted his wand, kind of like he was controlling puppets on strings, or maybe like he was a conducter or something and dissapitated the shield.

"Listen up, folks, I'm way better than you. I can kill you right now if I want-"

Alred laughed, his shot gun still pointing at Harry's head. "You don't have the guts, you little brat. Now give Granny her wand back."

Harry's expression didn't change. It was stone cold, but his emerald eyes blazed with fury. "Avada Kedavra," he said, carefully enounciating every syllable as he pointed his wand at a tree where a sloth was perched, sleeping soundlessly.

Sloths are very lazy monkeys who sleep twenty hours a day, and Harry using his very nice observational skills easily spotted it. His aim was true, the sloth's eyes jerked open and the entire branch fell. The sloth was dead before the branch hit the ground.

The effect was instantanous as Granny and Alred blanched, their faces turning the colour of toothpaste. "You… You…" Granny gulped. "You just did an unforgivable!"

"Bloody hell, who were your parents? Fuckin' death eaters?"

"That's on a need to know basis. The point is, I'll kill all of you if you don't do exactly what I say. Understand?"

Alred nodded blankly.

"First of all, we have to trim our numbers," Harry said. "Pulero!" He waved his wand and jerked back as hot molten lava shot out of the wand like a fire hydrant. It hit Dumbo and Bumbo without them having the chance to react. Their cries could be heard for quite a few minutes.

There was silence as the three campers watched with muted horror as Dumbo and Bumbo simply _boiled _to the ground.

"What do you want?" Granny finally asked.

"I told you, I want you to take me back to civilization."

"Why can't you just apparrate out?" Granny asked.

"And risk the chance of splinching? Are you stupid, lady?" Harry started laughing. He twirled his wand in as he whispered, "Crisu," and conjured a pair of sturdy brown boots which he wore at once. His black battle robes, combined with his evillish green eyes gave him an appearance of great power, but he knew that was only an illusion.

He was growing weak and he would have to act fast. He didn't even feel any remorse at what he did. What did it matter if two mute twins the size of King Kong just died in a forest? He felt no guilt, but he did feel a bit sad. The twins were a waste but they bought him something: fear, and fear led to power, and power led to the way he fought.

His way.

The way he would win over Lord Voldemort.

They were locked in an unending duel – Who could inspire the most fear?

So far, Harry had been completely ruthless about his methods, and it was working too, but then his friends started treating him coldly. He didn't care, he was doing it for them, but then they started dying one by one, and that really hit home.

He knew it was illogical but he went into a spiralling depression that only ended when Dumbledore showed him the time turner.He took the opportunity, and was in a new universe it seemed. Now he felt hope again.

"I'll kill you this time," he whispered to himself.

"Don't kill us! We'll do anything you want," said Granny, her wrinkled face scrunched up, tears leaking from her watery eyes.

"Good. I want you to get in that trailer and Alred, I want you to drive." Harry said. "By the way," he waved his wand, the shotgun in Alred's arms started melting, "That's much better."

Alred and Granny were obviously scared stiff. But the girl showed no reaction. She was youngish, like about eighteen or so, and had smooth brown skin, black eyes and long straight hair. She wore a simple gray dress that reached her knees and black boots. As this was going on, she showed no reaction.

"Get in all of you," he said loudly. "Go on, get in!" He urged them on by waving the wand at them. They cowered in fear and meekly went into the trailer van. Alred and Harry climbed into the front seat, and Alred got in behind the wheel. He started the engine, it took some time to start because there was maybe some shit stuck in there but it started after a bit. Then he drove it onto the little trail that Harry hadn't even noticed, and they went along.

Harry made no conversation because he was deep in meditation. Every few hours he would open his eyes, say, "Point Me" and tell Alred to change course to Northwest, or Southeast or something like that.

Alred tried to ask him questions – "Where are we going?" What's your name?" "Who are you?" but Harry wouldn't respond. Then he sort of gave up but his eyes kept flickering to Harry's face, and no doubt he was wandering if Harry was asleep.

Harry wasn't, he was meditating, extending his magical senses around himself toward the forestry and the woods around him and he tried to sense every creature, and every little action. This paid off because Alred decided to test his assumption that Harry was sleeping.

He reached into his green military style pants for a hand knife and ever so gently pulled it out. Before it was even halfway out, Harry sensed it and his eyes shot open, wand outstretched, pointing straight between Alred's eyes.

"Listen up, because I don't think we understand each other."

Alred let out a gasp. "S-s-sorry!"

"No you're not, you pathetic piece of shit. I know your every movement, you here? This won't go unpunished. Stop the car."

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"I said, STOP THE CAR!"

Alred stopped.

"Now get out before I get angrier." Harry said.

Alred slowly got out, engine in the car still running, and slumped.

Harry moved quickly, he ran over to Alred's side of the car, pointed his wand at Alred and said, "Crucio!"

Granny could only watch as her grandson was put under the crucatious curse, not able to do anything to help. She wanted to but she was just too scared, too scared for Jenny. This devil child might… might… kill them all!

She was going to try to do something but she couldn't do anything from the backseat and she didn't have an extra wand. There were rows of bars seperating the back seat and the front seat, kind of like how you see in a cop's car. Alred put that in, just to make his ride more badass. She always disliked it and now she could see why….

She didn't know what she could do so she opted to do nothing, even though it killed a bit inside of her.

"Now, are you ready to behave?" Harry asked Alred who was gasping and panting on the ground, his face red from pain, tears dribbling from his bloodshot eyes.

"Yes, yes… I'll do anything," he said.

"Good." Harry smiled and bade him to get up. "Now get in the car, and don't try anything stupid."

They drove along in silence, and it seemed that Alred was getting better – his breathing was steadier, the wetness around his face had dried up, and he looked better too. But the pain was still there, a fragment of it, and Alred was way too scared to try anything… funny.

They reached Monnoco City by nightfall. As they entered the city gates, the trail changed into a proper concrete road, so they could drive faster. When they reached a busy street filled with the smells of popcorn slowly toasting on a blackened portable stove, fish cooking and the sounds of shopkeepers trying to sell their goods and customers trying to negotiate a bargain, Harry raised his hand. "You can stop here, thank you for your hospitality but now I am afraid I must go." Harry waved cheekily and kicked the door open.

He walked and dissapeared into an alley until Alred and Granny lost sight of the "Devil-child" as they called him.

Harry himself never felt so cheerful. He felt totally and utterly in control of himself and the environment around him. He knew how to get what he wanted – through fear and pain – and he was willing to get it.

It was time to find out what the situation in the UK was like, Harry decided as he emerged in another busy road filled with stands and vendors trying to sell their goods.

This was a busy city, and Harry could take his time, enjoy the sights and all.

He grinned. Things were finally looking up for Harry Potter.

* * *

**COMING UP NEXT CHAPTER: **

Brazil was certainly different from any other place he had ever been in. Then again since he had never travelled outside the UK, he never really went anywhere else so yeah it was different. Most of the people here spoke english but with a slight Spanish accent that Harry kind of liked. Also, he also liked the food which he got for free. Conjuring money was the easiest thing to do, even though it was illegal and all, but who could catch him? For that matter, in Brazil's hideously corrupt government, who would dare try? He decided to stay for at least a month or so, on a sort of vacation, then he would go in Britain. He needed a vacation didn't he? Hell yeah he did, and it turned out taking a vacation in Brazil was the smartest thing he could ever do because he made a discovery. He found a magical tome in a museum...


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Harry was dressed in a red tee shirt with a picture of a rock band on it, one that he didn't know or care, and big blue jeans. He also wore a pair of sunglasses and leather boots and over all that a black leather trench coat like the one Neo wears in the Matrix. He was pro at conjuring money now, because he watched money change hands and that was all he needed to learn how to conjure Brazilian Dollars. So with practically unlimited funds and a glamour charm to make him look like a twenty year old, he practically owned the city.

The first thing he did was buy an apartment, a nice condo on a beach somewhere where the sun always shines and the water is always smooth blue and green. He liked that place a lot and ordered furniture in too from a company that did all that stuff, the name of it was: IMPROG and they were said to be reliable.

Harry was enjoying his vacation. He passed the time by reading books, amazingly. Not serious books like non fiction or philosophy or anything but entertaining pulp books. He had two big cardboard boxes: the unread pile, and the read pile. So far his unread pile was growing smaller and his read pile was growing bigger. He was quite heavy on books, it was like a new hobby for him, something to pass the time away with. Since he didn't have Quidditch, these entertaining stories were the next best thing. He read them everywhere, from when he was sun tanning on the beach to when he was eating dinner at a local restaurant that served a heck of a lot of fish. He usually ate alone.

"I'm fuckin' bored of this," he remarked to himself one day as he tossed the last of his books in the read pile. It missed, landing on the white tiled floor somewhere but near the carton box. He went to the balcony and enjoyed the view of the beach, the nice breeze, and the way the palm trees bended in the wind. This place was cool and all but he was starting to feel restless.

He had never really had a vacation. He was usually up and about fighting all the time, twenty four seven, or maybe playing Quidditch with the aurors or researching something for Hermione. So while leisure time was all good and all in theory but in practice it just didn't suit him.

He was more of an action person, he had to get out there and do some stuff or else he would become self complacent and he could never let that happen. He was ruthless, completely and utterly so and he wanted to stay that way. Also, he loved pain, he loved how it made you stronger and it did. He reached for the hard stuff all the time, did things nobody else would dare to do just because it was too painful. He faced Voldemort on the battlefield, which happened to be the house the death eaters were attacking or a well reputated establishment and by well reputated it means someone who serves muggle borns too, not just purebloods. He faced Voldemort every day and he never flinched even once. Why? Because he loved pain.

Pain made you stronger. So this vacation business just wasn't working out.

He decided to get some culture, which just goes to show how bored he was and looking through a bunch of tourist pamphlets he decided to go to a local museum, just for the heck of it. Hell maybe he would meet some hot chicks or something, he didn't know.

The museum was a smart place to go to and Harry always went to smart places blisteringly drunk. He got in his condo, opened a pack of Morocco's Finest and started guzzling down like a madman.

Then he was ready to leave. He went to the main road and ordered a taxi on the new cell phone he bought on one of his many many shopping trips. The taxi took its time, and the driver took his time as well, rolling down his windows and sneering at Harry. He was fat, white, and American, which surprised Harry for a bit. He decided not to ask any questions. The man looked hardcore with a giant tattoo of a dragon on his fat bulby arms and cheese dribbling down his chin. TO his side on the front seat was an open box of pizza. Harry decided to go in the back.

"Hey there," the fat man said, "My name's Jerry."

"Good to meet you, Jerry," Harry politely replied. "Take me to the museum."

Jerry snorted. "You kiddin? That place sucks like the tits of yo grandma."

"Okay…" Harry was at a loss on what to do. Should he just kill the man and save humanity from having him infect the gene pool or should he just go with the flow?

"The museum please," Harry said after a bit of silence.

"Alright whatever," Jerry said. "You're American right?"

"Sure," Harry replied.

"You should visit some night clubs man," Jerry said. Harry decided to change the subject.

"How come you are a taxi driver, here of all places?"

"Ran out of money. I'm trying to save up so I can go back, but I kinda like it in this town, know what I mean?"

Harry pondered on what would happen if he said No. Would the man flip out and drive them off the road? With those beady blue eyes that glinted in the sunlight, and that big puffy face, you just couldn't tell. "I know," Harry muttered and hoped desperately there wouldn't be any more conversation.

The taxi whipped down the empty road until it reached the busy sections of the city. There it was a free for all and the only rule on the road was don't get in other people's way. They reached the museum in ten minutes. Harry paid the fee and got out quickly.

The museum was approximately two stories high, or maybe it was three. Harry still hadn't got glasses, but he knew he could fix his eyes with a couple of potions. The fact was, he didn't want to do that. He might screw something up. He needed a proper potions master to help him out with the complex eye potion. Snape didn't count.

There was nobody around the museum, well no science or geeky looking types. There were a bunch of hooligans about Dudley's size smoking cigarettes, sitting on a large pinkish white banister, and generally having a fun time. Harry ignored them as he quickly walked up the steps. He didn't have time for cigerrates and all that unhealthy junk. To be the best, your body needs to be the best. That was Harry's policy anyway.

He opened the glass door to be greeted with a blast of cool air conditioned wind. There was a whirling noise in the background but otherwise all was dead silent. Maybe this was a sound proof building or something because he couldn't hear the cars out on the street anymore.

There was a black bald man at the cashier, his nametag read Chi Xang, Security Guard, and he was taking money for tickets. Harry dug into the pockets of his jeans and pulled out some REAL money. Among other things he was an expert pick pocketer.

"Hey, Chi, I need a ticket or something?" Harry asked as he went over to him. He was sitting behind a glass booth, reading THE MOROCCO TIMES newspaper and drinking a white mug of coffee, on which there were the words: Be Happy Man.

"You are?" Chi Xang asked coldly. His black eyes were like little buttons and when he opened his mouth to talk in through the little circle, Harry could see loads of sharp pointed teeth like fangs.

"My name's John Ridely," Harry lied. "I want a ticket to go into the museum please."

"ID?"

Harry dug out a fake ID, one that he had conjured a while ago. Everywhere in Morocco you needed ID. It supposedly stopped crime or something, or at least that's what the lawmakers were hoping. In reality fake ID, like many other illegal things were available almost everywhere.

"Alright, man, but don't take too long," Chi Xang said, scowling.

Funny man, Harry thought. What kind of black guy had a freakin Chinese name? Funny man, Harry thought again as he entered the automatic doors of the museum. Inside were all sorts of things from Cups to Plates to Tables.

In short it was really boring. Harry was wandering around, and as he was looking at all the stuff he lit up a cigarette.

A security guard, not Chi Xang but a much bigger and stronger looking guy with a fierce expression came over and grabbed the cigarette from Harry's mouth. Then he pointed to a sign that Harry had seen but ignored. "No smoking." He said and stalked away.

"Party pooper," Harry muttered as he looked around some more.

His eyes rested on a black book propped up in a display behind wooden goblets and chains made of gold.

Immediately Harry sensed something coming off it, and without a thought he reached for his wand in his pocket.

Calm down, Harry, he said to himself and took two deep breaths. Then he pulled out his wand and eyed the security guard from the corner of his eye. The man was looking straight at him!

He gulped, feeling uncharacteristically out of shape. "You gotta do this more often Harry, you're losing your skills," he said to himself and then pointed his wand straight at the security guard. "Stupefy," he said. The guard ducked at once and reached for his gun but Harry was way ahead of him.

When the guard looked up, Harry was gone.

And so was the black book.

Al that was left was the faint echo of a popping noise.

---

Harry opened the door to his apartment, breathing heavily and sweating hard. Why was he so scared… Why did he feel so weird?

The book! He realized too late because as he tried to let go of the book he found he couldn't. His arms and legs had turned into stone, not literally but it felt like dead weight. He couldn't move.

But he could move his neck for some reason and he moved it so his eyes rested on the black book. It was like no other, its covers were black but its pages were yellowish with age. Not only that but there was a symbol of a spider etched into the front of the cover. What freaked Harry out was that the spider's eyes were gleaming red.

"Oh shit, a horcrux," Harry thought in alarm and tried to shake the book off some more. It wouldn't come off. Gradually he felt his will draining away.

He didn't want to be possessed by the book or anything, who would? But it seemed that was going to happen. "No, I won't let some lousy old book take control of me!" Harry snarled out and banged his hand against his door. The door smashed open, that's how hard Harry the door. So much that its hinges were broken. Never let it be said that Harry didn't have strength because he was a maniac, smashing the book against the new T.V he had bought, smashing it against his table and two chairs, smashing it through the windows, and smashing it everywhere he could think of.

But it wasn't working. The book wasn't coming off and gradually Harry felt himself weaken. No this couldn't end like… like… this. He had to do something and fast too.

Then all of a sudden he started laughing as a thought struck him.

He had no soul.

How could the book possess him if he had no soul? It was probably just trying to influence his mind but now that he saw through the sham…

The book dropped effortlessly to the floor. Harry jumped back and eyed it cautiously. Should he touch it again? Why not, there was no way the book could try that shit again. But he would have to get rid of it. Thankfully, he had experience with horcruxes. A lot of experience, actually about six horcruxes worth. The final one, Nagini was kept under lock and key so to speak, and guarded twenty four seven by Lord Voldemort.

Cautiously, he opened the cover flap, and saw that there was something written on the pages of the book in spidery thin handwriting. The ink itself was blood red, so much so that Harry thought for a moment that maybe it really was blood.

The ink was like a scrawl across the page, kinda like a knife wound across a painting. It sort of spoiled the pages. Harry picked up the book and went over to the armchair on the balcony, the one that overlooked the ocean because he had two balconies, one in the front and one in the back. He started reading the book, even though at first the print was a little hard to make out. But gradually it got clearer and clearer as he got used to the handwriting.

"Who are you, human? Why have you disturbed my rest? What are you…" It went on this way, merely asking questions. The thing was, it seemed like an invisible hand was writing all this. The hand wrote slow and methodically, Harry could read much faster than the hand could write.

He thought of his second year at Hogwarts, and Tom Riddle's diary. This was sort of like the diary. Would it be safe trying to write in here? Well since he had no soul, what could possibly happen?

He let the book rest on the banister of the balcony and went in the kitchen where he opened a drawer right beside his white fridge, and took out a shiny ballpoint pen, BIC company. He had bought a whole pack of these yesterday. He went back to the balcony, sprawled himself on the purplish bluish armchair and started scribbling on the empty pages of the book. Every time he wrote something the ink disappeared.

He started asking the book some questions, Who are You? Why are you in there? What are you doing? Stuff like that. Surprisingly the book answered and Harry learnt some pretty shocking things…

I am an ancient Babylonian warrior trapped in this book. An evil spirit named Grendel put me in this, and now I am trapped here for all eternity. I've been watching the world pass by and have moved around for many a year. It is the first time I ever sensed a being alike to me – someone who is empty at the likes of a vessel, unfulfilled.

_You have no soul, do you? _

Harry answered truthfully. No I don't.

_Neither do I, young one. What is your name? _

Harry scrawled his reply.

_Well, then, Harry Potter, would you like to help me get out of this? _

Harry answered: No.

Why not? I could be of use to you.

How? Harry wrote.

I could tell you the location of many ancient magical treasures, if you will let me. But first you need to free me, to do this wave your wand around this book three times and repeat these words: Wassingus, Wordumassi, Putargi, Winxi, Robar. Can you do it?

Harry wrote, What will this do to me?

Nothing, I swear on my life. You have no soul, I cannot hurt you and you can't hurt me either. What will it hurt to try?

Harry wondered what to do. Should he listen to this book? What if it was all a lie?

Still the treasures appealed to his greed. Yes, maybe freeing this person would be the right thing to do.

His biggest mistake.

Harry took out his wand and waved it over the book three times while saying: _Wassingus, Wordumassi, Putargi, Winxi, Robar!" _

At first nothing happened but then the book started to glow an evil greenish color like the slime in a gutter and a sort of bulby ghostlike form started to rise. Harry stepped back in alarm as the form rose up in the air and took the shape of a giant of a man.

If you could call him a man. He had the face of a cobra, the eyes of a dragon, the ears of an elf, the body of a gigantic half bear half human, and scaly lizard feet. "You have freed me from my prison!" The man said, his voice echoed like thunder, and when he spoke clouds started to form around him overhead. Heavy black clouds. All of a sudden it started to rain, and lightning flashed behind the man… or demon.

"W-what are you?"

"Your worst enemy," the man replied and then started laughing. "You may call me… Grendel the Ancient."

"Shut up! You're nothing, y'hear? I summoned you so I control you-"

"Foolish human," Grendel said, mockingly as he waved his bear like hand. "Do you really think you can compare to me? I am great, I am powerful, I am strong and I am immortal."

Harry raised his wand in front of him, "Begone, fiend," he said, "Lumos Maximus."

An intense ball of light started to grow from the tip of Harry's wand, and then extended outward toward Grendel the Ancient.

Grendel screamed, "No!"

"I know what kind of creature you are," Harry said, smirking. "I read about you people once. Ancient demons that roamed the Earth. You are the last of them, aren't you?"

"Put that light out. Put it out! Put it out!" Grendel screamed.

"I know what your weakness is," Harry said and then chuckled softly. "You only exist in the shadows. Where there is light, there is illumination. And where there is illumination, there is good. And where there is good, evil cannot exist. BEGONE DEMON!"

The white light started to increase in intensity until Grendel started screaming in pain. "I'll come back, Harry Potter," Grendel said and then vanished in a puff of black euphoric smoke.

Harry coughed and cut out the light spell. The clouds had cleared now, and the sun shone brightly all around. But his heart was pumping like a train and just when he had started to relax he found he unleashed a demon bigger than anything he had ever faced before, including Lord Voldemort.

What could he do now?

He started to moan from exhaustion, the demon's very presence was like a dementor. Harry knew the demon would return again come nightfall and he would have to be prepared. Maybe the demon would take some time to heal, so perhaps it would attack again in a week or so, Harry didn't know.

All he knew was that the demon would return, and Harry would have to be prepared. To be prepared he needed information, and he knew just where to get it too: Hogwarts Library.

He ran out the door, taking nothing with him but his wand, which he held tightly in his right hand. He jogged all the way to the market, where there was a rickshaw waiting for a passenger. He climbed aboard, "Take me to the docks, quickly!" He yelled out.

"Yes, Harry Potter," said the rickshaw man, grinning.

Harry felt his blood go cold, his heart stopped beating, his face blanched as the rickshaw man turned around… revealing Grendel's cobra like face. "How you doin'?" Grendel asked, chuckling madly. Inside the rickshaw was dark. Harry moved on pure instinct, he raised his wand and yelled out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Grendel opened his mouth, revealing a dark substance inside like a black hole. Harry's eyes widened as Grendel simply swallowed the Avada Kedavra spell like it was pudding or jello or something. Then Grendel gulped, and grinned, "Yummy," he said, red eyes whirling madly.

Harry swallowed and jumped out the way he had come in, landing in the middle of the road. He started running, wand still clutched in his hand. The sun was out so Grendel wouldn't dare follow him, would he? Harry hoped not.

He could not be in any place dark or else Grendel would catch him. He had read about the demons like Grendel before; they lived in the shadows and fed on human emotions, there were only fifty of them at one time but slowly Merlin hunted these demons down and killed them all one by one. It was a long and bitter war that cost Merlin his life, as well as the lives of thirty excellent mages, the entire sect of the Wizards of the Round Table, and a host of knights and brave warriors.

Now one of them was lose, what looked like the most powerful one of all. Maybe Merlin had sealed the demon into that book, but oh god, Harry moaned to himself as he ran down the busy street, now the demon's back.

What could he ever do now? This demon thing was probably worse than Voldemort, hell Voldemort was just a five year old compared to the demon here. He needed information, he needed ways to defeat this demon.

No, he needed people who had information and suddenly he got the idea. He kicked himself for overlooking this trivial fact.

What year was it? He knew he was in the body of a little child, but he didn't know what year it was, now did he?

"Timerus," he said, waving his wand. Orange liquid poured into the air in front of the wand that moved along as Harry ran. It formed a date: January 12th, 1945.

Good god, 1945?!

This was ridiculous. How could he end up in 1945? Why that was the year Tom Riddle went to school, wasn't it? And…

His parents would be alive. Well at least his grand parents at least. He had to get some serious help. Hell maybe even Voldemort could help him. He needed to get all the smart people on board, and fast too.

He knew the value of having a team of smart people at your beck and call. That's why he could survive the war, he had Hermione, Dumbledore and the entire department of mysteries and those unspeakables were absolute scholar fanatics. They loved knowledge and therefore Harry loved them. They were his secret weapon kinda, because with them he could survive his battles with Voldemort and be ready for tomorrow as well.

So now that he was in a new world he needed smart people. Where would he get smart people? Why at Hogwarts of course.

But he couldn't stay in the shadows. He looked around the busy street where people were hauling carts, women with babies in one hand and grocery bags in another and-

Oh god, there was Grendel looking out from a one story house. Nobody else could see him though. The demon stayed well in the shadows.

Harry's face whitened, he didn't know what to do. Could Grendel teleport or something?

Well, two can play at that game, Harry thought to himself, and apparrated out to the docks.

The docks was a wide area that covered Morocco's entire shoreline. It was filled with all sorts of ships from cargo warehouse ships, to cruise and luxery floats to ferries to little puny fishing boats. Harry thought he could take a boat and maybe sail it to Hogwarts. How hard could it be to stay in the light? With maybe a wind spell he could easily traverse the ocean to Europe, which he guessed was somewhere North East, and reach England's coast. From there he could apparrated to Hogsmaede, and probably make Hogwarts by nightfall.

Albus Dumbledore would know what to do, Harry thought. Meanwhile, he tried not to look back as he secured a ship. Because every time he looked back or even into the water he saw Grendel's face looking back at him, sharp triangular red eyes whirling like mad, and that cobra face with the slits for nose. Why that was more snake like than even Voldemort, and that was saying something.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER:**

_Harry goes to Hogwarts, or tries to but along the way he has to face fierce weather charms, monsters Grendel summons from the oceans, and Grendel himself. Can he get to Hogwarts in time? And can he get Dumbledore on his team?_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Harry looked about, sweat beads lining the sides of his young five year old face. His glamour charm had been dispelled by now because he couldn't concentrate on it and fight Grendel at the same time. Speaking of which, where was the demon anyway? Harry of course knew that Grendel was simply toying with him – or maybe the demon wasn't strong enough to take him on, and as stressed as Harry was feeling, his mind was calm and completely lucid. He was taking in all the details and planning his plans, and contigiency plans just in case like he was doing a math problem. He was always calm under pressure, when you face life and death situations every day it just doesn't faze you out anymore.

He examined the boats lined up on the dock and chose a bright red one with its sails still pulled up at full mast. This one was a two seater motor boat used mainly for fishing in small bodies of water like lakes or rivers or it could also be used for pleasure which was doubtless what the owner was using it for. Harry didn't know, nor did he particularly care. He was focused on getting a boat and making it to Hogwarts in record time, hopefully before the sun set.

He glanced quickly at the sky as he climbed aboard the ship and saw to his relief that it was noon. The sun shined brightly overhead and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. When he reached the deck, he pulled out his wand and cast the only weather spell he knew which was to conjure a hurricane type wind. Mainly using it to fly debris from battles at his opponents and not for sailing, he was a bit out of practice.

But after two tries he managed to get it right. On his third try, he jabbed his wand in the air and then looped it over his head three times while saying the incantation in what he hoped was correct latin and not quasi latin like he usually did spells in. "Wartusa Pillum," he said in the air.

Almost at once he felt a rush of energy leave him and then all of a sudden exhaustion crept up on him starting from his stomach and spiraling downward. He fell to the floor, sweat dribbling down his face like he had just taken a shower and not dried off. Unfortunately he had forgotten to untie the knot that attached the boat to the harbor and when a humungoes storm just whipped out of nowhere, making the boat leap into the waves, it took a big chunk of the wooden pillars of the dock with it in a jolting crash.

Harry stayed down for at least half an hour, trying to focus on his chakra. Chakra was his internal energies, and the practice of focusing his chakra – Qigong – was an ancient Chinese practice that he had learnt on his own through the internet. Normally it would have taken him at least two hours to recouver from such a huge weather spell as the one he had performed, but he could cut it into a quarter if he focused on his breathing and tried to regain his energies.

He got up, feeling refreshed for a change, and ravishingly hungry. He went down a set of five steps and into what he mentally called the basement of the little boat. There was a row of cupboards, a wooden table bolted to the floor, and beside it a desk also bolted. He started opening the cupboards and to his happy surprise he found half of the cupboards were loaded with caskets of wine bottles.

Drinking beer when you are five years old is definitely not healthy but with a little spell the effects of the beer were diminished, until it was about as alcoholic as apple juice. God, he couldn't wait until he was old enough to hold this shit down because he was a big fan of alcoholic drinks. That was what kept him going all those years, that and some late night fun with lady friends.

The storm wind was concentrated around that boat, so the red boat whipped through the waves like a shark, going at speeds as good as 200 kilometers an hour. Harry, on the deck sprawled in a white plastic chair he conjured out of nothing but the wand, estimated that he would reach UK in about…

Thirty hours.

By then night would fall, and when night fell the demon would be three times more powerful than before. Harry gulped, frustration mingling with stress causing a headache. He wandered what to do. He needed some ideas. Could he up the speed of the wind perhaps? No he was exhausted as it was. He would need a full night's sleep at the very least.

Well he would need to do something, and fast too. He couldn't risk apparrating through Britain's innate wards, wards which all countries had around them to protect themselves from foreigners. So what could he do?

Well he would have to think of something before the sun fell and darkness ensued. He had to! So what?

He started to make a mental list of ideas and crossed each of them off almost as soon as he thought about them. There were too many flaws.

He would just have to face Grendel, that was all there was to it. But how could he hope to succeed against a practically immortal demon like Grendel? The fact was, he couldn't. Or at the very least it would be very very hard to do.

Hard was his business though and fighting for almost two decades had made him as tough as nails. He put on a bitter grim smile and thought to himself – "Death… Just try to get me!"

Death would try because Grendel lurked beneath the seas… watching and waiting for night to come. And when night ensued, death would soon follow.

Some Time Later….

Harry was worried; He had no idea what to do, no secret tricks up his sleeve and now the last streaks of red orange left the sky as a steady bluish hue settled over the entire half of the world. Now it was Grendel's turn to fight back, and Harry had no idea what to do.

Grendel himself was waiting just for this opportunity. He came up, head dipping above the ocean to see the boat far off, where the sun had now fallen. He was the last of his race of demons; the rest of his species had already gone off to some other world to dominate and fight amongst each other. Grendel was the only one left and he too would go to the other world soon. But first he would have to "repay" his summoner.

How can you repay a summoner? By summoning them something of greater value of course and so Grendel waiting for two hours when night had fallen, soaking in the night air and the light of the moon, regaining the energies he would need for what he was about to attempt. He would need every drop of energy he could muster.

Then he went down again and swam with smooth powerful strokes using his muscular bear like arms, neck of cobra whipping about like a steering wheel and legs being the main propeller. He traveled a vast length of the ocean until he entered the forbidden city of Atlantis where his species had once reigned. Now it was sunk to the ground and there were numerous enchantments to stop any tourist from being able to access the Forbidden City of the Great Demons.

Grendel of course knew the codes that would get him through the powerful wards and once he had slipped through like a cobra, he entered the main gates of the city.

The city itself was about a hundred miles wide and a thousand miles long. It seemed to be a rectangle – Grendel's species had a fondness for mathematics. On this large strip of black earth there were rows upon rows of neat little pyramids going no more than one mile high. Now this Forbidden City was in a deep canyon in the deepest part of the oceans. Nobody could find it easily, but there were legends circulating in both the muggle and the wizarding world about the Forbidden City of Atlantis.

Grendel remembered, from ancient memories the pyramid he once inhabited. There would lie his pet, laying still in its trunk. He entered the pyramid like a ghost, merely floated through the walls – the pyramid was made of a substance not of this Earth, one that used no space in Quantum reality. Rather it existed in the ethereal world. Inside the pyramid was like another world. It was like a maze that went forever, with green moss covered walls. In the center of the maze, sitting in a trunk lay Grendel's greatest treasure: His pet, the king of the basilisks.

Grendel moved with ease through the maze because his memory seemed crystal sharp. He knew where every secret treasure was, and this was the place that he had promised Harry Potter.

He was always one to repay his debts. He grinned, revealing rows of snake fangs that could secrete venom out of this world. As he approached the center of the maze he noticed with relief a liquid black ink that darkened the entire place. Now a normal person from Earth would immediately be erased from this world, simply deleted like on a computer, but one of Grendel's race, this was like perfume.

He entered the center of the pyramid, the exact center point. Here there was a trunk that glowed red in the dark blackness of the ink. The trunk itself was not of any design that existed in the modern world. It was not square, it was round like an egg. He approached the egg like trunk and bit into it with his fang filled mouth.

A huge scream burst out of the egg as a small red snake with black spots all over her body jutted out of the egg like trunk. Her eyes were the eyes of the universe, they were endless hollow tunnels that seemed to go on forever and protruding from her mouth were paper white fangs with green venom dripping from it.

"GO FORTH, MY PET. KILL THE SUMMONER, AND FOLLOW ME TO THE NEXT WORLD." Grendel said.

"VERY WELL, MASTER…." The snake replied, and sped away through the pyramid at blinding speed.

Grendel grinned, his job was done and now he could go on to the other world and join the brethren of his race. Maybe one day he would return to check on his summoner again.

He had no delusions. He was indeed repaying his master with the greatest treasure in the world – conflict. After this battle, the ultimate battle, Harry Potter would feel no fear in fulfilling his prophecy.

Grendel maybe cruel, but he always repaid his debts.

He closed his dragon like eyes and the ink whirled around him like a cyclone. Then the black ink simply disappeared as the entire Forbidden City exploded in showers of magical blue lightning spears causing a huge tsumani that flooded several ideas and a bit of Sri Lanka.

The snake was like a rocket, she locked on to her target. The black spots were really large pores from which she fed upon the water and the bacteria around her. As she traveled toward Harry Potter, she increased in size and kept increasing until she expanded to unimaginable size.

---

Harry drifted on the waves of the ocean, his mini storm long since vanquished itself. He seemed to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown and knew that when the battle finally came he wouldn't have a chance. Nevertheless he dug out a pad of paper from the drawers on the table and jotted down some ideas. He called it, "brainstorming," but really it was just doodling pictures of all the people he knew… Albus Dumbledore was the first with his wrinkled face, twinkling blue eyes like moons and the long white beard and moustache. They had an old joke between them, Dumbledore often called Harry Darth Vadar, and Harry called him Gandalf just to tease each other. Those two were the best of friends despite their differences in idealogies. Harry believed in ruthlessness while Dumbledore believed in using a light gentle touch when in battle like a lover's carress or a painter's brush. Harry missed the old man, knowing with certainity that Albus Dumbledore would know what to do for sure.

Next up was Joan Polysnaki, who had sort of been his favorite lady friend. She had bright blonde hair and dark brown eyes that seemed to reflect the fire he felt inside him. She was devious, ambitious, and an all around perfect death eater who had fallen for Harry Potter. Harry himself used her like a tool but he had to admit it to himself that he sort of liked Joan in a personal way, that and the sex was just plain awesome.

Then of course were Ron and Hermione, the now married couple who worked against Voldemort day and night and stood by Harry like boulders or the roots of a tree. Then came Ginny who had died an early death at the hands of Draco Malfoy – after passing information to the death eaters. Harry felt sorry for her because he kind of thought that her death was his fault. A woman scorned and all that…

Then came others, which he drew as stick figures – Kingsley the auror who had saved Harry's bacon many times in the metaphorical kitchen aka battlefield. He was always ready for a fight and a beer, just like Moody and Tonks. Those three aurors were among the best and under Harry's encouragement they quit working for the ministry and joined the Order of the Phoenix as full time fighters. Harry was the sole leader of the order after Dumbledore retired but whenever he had significant problems he could always go see the old man.

His doodling was interrupted by a giant snake head crashing upward from the floor of the cabin. The snake didn't even so much glance at Harry, who fell off his chair from the resulting turbulence. Instead the snake continued on its way and made a giant hole through the boat. Its body went on for enough time that Harry had time to prepare himself, grab his wand and try some cutting spells that simply bounced off the snake's body.

"Holy shit, what the hell is this?!" He yelled out as he tried another spell, one that never failed to work. "Avada Kedavra!" He yelled out. A jet of green light shot out of his wand and onto the redish body of the snake.

Nothing happened. The snake just soaked up the spell and continue on its way. Then Harry saw the tail and finally its trip through his boat was over. "What the hell should I do…?" He muttered to himself as water bubbled into the boat starting to sink it. He had to go up to the deck now… where the giant of a snake probably lied in wait for him. How could he destroy it?

He climbed the steps two at a time because the water was coming up fast. The boat would sink now, any minute. He had to escape from this mess but how?

His mind flashed to a similar incident when he fought a basilisk which was probably a hundred times smaller than this piece of work. He needed a sword, or to be more specific Gryfindor's sword. Wait why would he need Gryfindor's sword? Why won't any other sword work?

Harry managed a weak grin as he swung his wand in a slash and conjured a curved saber. He grabbed the black handle just as the sword fell mid air. He raised the saber above his head, yelled out his normal battle cry – every hero needs a battle cry right? – "Hogwaaaaaaaaarts!" He jumped on to the deck and clenched his eyes shut, focusing his remaining energy on his ankles. He would have only one shot to do this and he had to get it right.

The snake was flying in the air, levitating more like, looking for the right place to strike at Harry Potter. She saw the opening which was simply to charge right in, after all what could hurt her? She leapt down at Harry.

Harry jumped. He shot off like a rocket, his saber pointing upward like a spear. The snake's head, the point between her eternal black hole like eyes, met with the steel saber.

The saber broke like a wooden stick as Harry rebounded to the ocean because of the impact. However his attacked distracted the snake long enough to stop in mid charge. There was a little cut right at that point as a bit of black ink like blood seemed to drip out like tears.

She felt pain for the first time in centuries.

As Harry fell he grinned widely, he just found the snake's weak point. Her hide was impenetrable, but that point right between her eyes! That was her weakness. He pulled out his wand from his belt where he had stuck it in and shouted out, "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light burst out with a bang and hit the Queen of All Snakes right in her weakest spot.

Harry fell into the ocean, his vision blackening.

The snake fell above him, dead to the world.

----

Harry coughed out water and looked up at the sunny sky. He had a huge headache, as if he had a hangover and he saw double through his blurry vision. He groaned and mumbled something out, "Where the snake at?"

Then he got up, eyes widening like a balloon inflating. The giant snake! What had happened to it?

It was gone, just disappeared out of the face of the Earth…

Where was Grendel?

Oh jeezus… Harry groaned to himself as he got up. Then he saw something in the distance… it was a human looking shape.

He moved closer, stumbling on his feet and spat green pleghm on the sandy beach of the tropical island. As he moved closer he could make out the figure and the figure made his heart stop beating.

Grendel, holding a black umbrella.

He was smiling.

"You…" Harry croaked out, voice cracking like a boy going through puberty. "What do you want?"

"You have my congratulations, Mr. Potter," Grendel said, voice like a symphony that was oddly hypnotizing. "You defeated my pet queen of all snakes. How does it feel?"

"I'll do the same to you," Harry warned.

"Unfortunately I don't have any weaknesses," Grendel said with a quirk of his scaly lips. He opened his mouth, revealing a forked tongue the color of the sky above, and licked his lips. "You will be tasty to eat, but you have earned my respect. A champion as great as the one who trapped me in the book… You will go far."

"Who trapped you in the book?" Harry asked, unsure. Did Grendel want to kill him? What happened?

Grendel seemed surprised at the question. He waved his hand in a nonchalant fashion, "Somebody called Bathargus Dumbledore. That does not matter. He's dead, unfortunately," his face took on a sour expression.

"Anyways, do not worry, I won't hunt you down. You freed me after all."

"Why not?"

"Won't be of much use, I can't devouver your soul. You don't have one."

"How come I'm not changed because I don't have a soul? I thought I would be like… I dunno, I would lose my humanity or something."

"Do I look like a being with all the answers?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Well you are partly right. I do have your answer. None of my species have souls yet we are… how do you say it? Human?"

"Will I look like you or something?"

"No, you are not that privileged. You will keep your form but with time you will find that you will lose all your emotions."

"You have no emotions? That's terrible," Harry blurted out.

Grendel smiled weakly, "You'll learn how to fake it, Mr. Harry Potter. Goodbye, my… champion." Then he snapped his fingers and faded away.

Harry soon discovered he was on a little island in the Mediterranean sea, and wandering about the island he discovered his wand amid wet sand, protruding out like the periscope of a submarine. He grabbed it and worked fast, stripping the branches, palm leaves and coconuts from the trees and making a small boat. He drank the coconut water; felt refreshed enough to travel to Hogwarts at his leisure and started on the trip by loading the boat with enough coconuts to make a fortune out of if he decided to sell to people who lived in places without coconuts.

On the way to Hogwarts he started his doodling again but this time he added one more picture.

Grendel with his cobra head and bear body and lizard feet. Grendel who seemed to do an about turn and who still confused the hell out of Harry.

But he felt like he did something pretty good this last week. He killed a big fat snake and that was enough to cheer anyone up, especially Harry Potter who decided to make it his profession killing big snakes.

As he traveled, using magic to propel the wooden boat across the oceans he made a flexible plan. He needed to get to Hogwarts for one reason and one reason only: KILL TOM RIDDLE.

He had to, it would help him out so much in the future and he would carry it out too, because he was ruthless like that. Hell, even if Tom was a little baby, Harry would kill him without hesitation. He was used to death, his first killings had bothered him a bit and he suffered through a lot of angst – "What if I am turning out to be like Voldemort???" was the common angsty question. But then he decided, to hell with it, and made a contingency plan just in case.

Albus Dumbledore.

He lived for only one purpose: To kill Harry Potter in case he turned dark.

Albus would have left the world long ago if it weren't for Harry, holding him back. Harry couldn't trust anyone other than Albus to do it for him.

But now that he was in a new universe with a new Albus Dumbledore – a much younger Albus Dumbledore – he wandered if they could work together again, Gandalf and Darth Vadar, Albus and Harry.

He didn't know if it would work out the same way but he knew one thing, he had to try at least. But for now he could concentrate on just getting to Hogwarts. On the trip – which would take ten days by Harry's estimation if he continued at this slow but steady turtle like pace – he also fished a lot. He made his own fishing rods and learnt by himself how to angle the lines and drag the fish in. The ocean had a heck of a lot of fish and he could roast them by himself using magic which was quite the convenient tool.

Also he thought about his previous friends… and his parents. Of course they didn't exist now, but they would soon. What would they be like in a world free of Voldemort?

You betcha there would be no Voldemort. Harry would stake his life on it. He felt his heart beat faster, finally he would be able to complete the prophecy and all. And then… then what?

Would he return to the universe he had abandoned? Maybe. After he became old and powerful like Dumbledore though. Then he would make his own time turner and return to the exact moment he had left that universe and all would be well again. It had to be.

NEXT CHAPTER:

Can Harry get into Hogwarts? Will he be able to kill Tom Riddle, or will the young Lord Voldemort prove to cunning for Mr. Potter? What about Dumbledore? Will he work for or against Harry Potter?


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Harry's entry into the UK was interesting… he stood on top of a sinking dingy of a boat, held together only by the thickest strands of magic. He was the captain of his ship and he would go down with it. He stepped on the dock just as the tip of his boat had sunk into the bottom and walked cluck cluck cluck, his boots making thick noises on the wet wooden docks. He looked toward the sky and saw clouds, and smelt the air which was pine fresh – the air of recent rain. Interesting, he thought and pulled out his wand and warmed himself over with a quick drying charm. Then he examined his surroundings. He wasn't surprised that he was alone at the docks, most would be eating dinner at about this time but Harry of course was a special sort. He never ate dinner, merely had an apple or whatever fruit at hand. In truth drinking was his only vice because he concerned himself with his health to utmost degrees.

He loved life and he wanted to live it in good health, not in sickness and decay. Beside, being a good fighter meant that you had to be in tip top condition. If the slightest thing was wrong like say a sprained ankle or a torn muscle it could mean life and death. Harry knew death, Harry loved life. He had been on the brink of death thousands of times and it did not scare him, didn't even make him twitch. He had you could say transcended death.

Now all that was left was life and his job – his goal was to love it in the moment. He had never married but he had secret ambitions about starting a family sometime soon. Of course he couldn't with Voldemort out there. Why everyone he got close to became a target he would never know. Well, that wasn't true. He just didn't want to know; he just didn't want to be responsible, but that irritating voice at the back of his head that criticized his every move, made fun of him behind his back and did its best to make Harry's life as hellish as possible had something to say about responsibility. "Defeat Voldemort, then start a family you twit."

Harry listened to this voice because this voice was the key to life. To ignore his inner critic was to ignore danger and when you ignored danger… you turned out dead.

Harry in reality survived so many times because of one thing and one thing only. He was a coward. He was a true yellow bellied shrunked up no good indyun frog.

He was a scaredy cat in battle, and he acknowledged that fact grimly and never told anyone else about it. Why should he? He knew he had a coward's heart… but at times he could transcend his innate cowardliness and that was where his Inner Critic, or IC for short came in.

IC was that voice at the back of your head who always swore at you, who always made you get up out of that bed in the morning at five am, who always forced you to rescue that child from the death eaters' clutch and who always always always made sure you survived. How? Through constant criticism.

Harry hated that voice… and he loved it at the same time. This was life, he liked to live life and he had long ago accepted that his inner critic was indeed a part of his life. So when his inner critic started speaking to him right now, he wised up and listened.

"You are an idiot, Mr. Potter," his inner critic said, taking the voice of Professor Snape. "How can you be so damn stupid? Do you even remember to breathe every now and then without me having to remind you? Gah, you make me sick Potter… you…" it went on in this vain for sometime before finally reaching to the cold cold realization that…

"You can't just barge in here like you own this place! You don't even know where you are. What if you are on the other side of the bloody country, then what? What if you get captured by death eaters? What if Voldemort followed you here? What if Grendel was a lying piece of scum? What if…"

"I get it, I get it," Harry hastily said aloud, and as he was walking down the well populated street a woman pushing a baby carriage glanced sharply at him and then proceeded to cross the street. "So what do you want me to do?" Thankfully he said this in his head, and not aloud.

"You need to plan this out properly, Harry," the voice said, changing to a soothing tone like the one Albus Dumbledore always used every time he explained why Harry's original plan wouldn't work. His original plans were to usually charge into the situation and depend on luck, Vive Ve Vie!

"You'll help me plan for this then?" Harry asked, getting interested.

"Sure, lets get a cup of coffee first. Do you see that coffee shop right down at the end of Malden Street?"

"Yeah I see it," Harry said. Somehow it didn't bother him that he was having a conversation in his head. If he was a psychiatric, he would diagnose himself with a mild case of schizhoprhenia but since he wasn't, well he just thought this was normal for everybody.

"Let's go there, get us a nice hot cup of java and then you and I will have a talk."

"I don't have any money though-"

"You are such an idiot, just conjure one. Did that giant snake eat your brains or something?" His inner critic said, taking the voice of Fred Weasley.

"Okay Okay," Harry screamed aloud, causing three young men in their mid twenties who were going to a Star Trek convention looked sharply at him and then, following the example of the fat lady with the baby carriage, they crossed the street, but not without giving him one last pitying – and scared – look.

Harry of course took no notice, which was usual for him. "Let's go," Harry said. He entered Big Mac's Coffee House with a small grin as he surreptisously conjured a pack of twenty pound notes with a slight flick of his wand behind his back. He grabbed the stack of notes, pulled out one crisp twenty and stuffed the rest in his pocket for later use. Conjuring money was probably the hardest thing to get right, but Harry had mastered it out of necessity and because it was bloody cool. To get the intricate details right however, was an almost inhuman task that few could do. Harry had experience, and thus he knew how to do it thanks to Hermione's regular teaching lessons.

Big Mac's Coffee House was a darkly lit place that looked more of a bar than a coffee house, which it was. Harry however was under a glamour charm so he looked to untrained eyes like he was merely thirty or forty years old, healthy and growing a bit bald and developing a little pot belly. These things were essential to a good disguise, because if you were too handsome you would be remembered and in Harry's line of work – because of course he had to use disguises to escape Voldemort's hitmen – disguise was the most important tool in his arsenal.

Harry scanned his green eyes over the room, taking in Big Mac, a giant of a man dressed in blue tee shirt and jeans and a white cap casting a shadow over his guant features. But in the dim orange light overhead Harry could make out the stubble on his face and the red end of the cigar clenched between shiny white teeth. He wiped a cup with a dirty hanky and placed it gently beside him over a stack of upside down cups on a glinting metal tray, and then glanced up revealing enormous black eyes. "Have a seat sir," he said in a ghoulish dog like voice. "What c'n I get ya?"

Harry sat beside a woman dressed in black satin, nursing a large mug that steamed and writing with a large and messy fountain pen on a pad of yellow paper. She looked no more than twenty five and had a lean figure. "Hello," Harry muttered, "Cup of coffee?"

"At this time? You want dinner 'stead?" Big Mac asked. He seemed in a light mood but his black eyes glittered like stars as they took in Harry's appearance.

"Coffee," Harry repeated and placed the twenty pound note on the table. "Keep the change, its a tip."

"Yes, sir, you the boss, boss." Big Mac said and made the bill disappear with a big grin. Ten seconds later he was back with a steaming mug of coffee just like the one the woman next to Harry sipped.

Then he left the room through the back door and Harry was unconsciously aware that the woman and him were all alone but it seemed that the woman hadn't even noticed Harry's arrival for her gaze was fixated on the yellow legal pad, her bluish purple fountain pen scribbling as fast as a lightning bolt.

Harry cleared his throat. Still no reaction. Then shrugging to himself he blew on the coffee to cool it down and proceeded to bribe his inner voice with a few well placed compliments. Then… "So what's the plan?"

"Well, Harry," the voice began as it always did in Dumbledore's soothing melodic voice. "Listen well cause I'm only going to tell you this once."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I'm listening."

"Good," the voice said. "Here's my plan. First you need to become older again-"

"What do you mean, I'm thirty fuckin years old."

"Oh really, look down."

Harry looked and found to his immense displeasure that the glamour charm had vanished, or rather his inner voice had made it vanish. Mr. Inner Voice did that from time to time. He hastily replaced it and scowled at his reflection in the porcelain bar counter top. The reflection grinned and winked even though Harry was conscious of his scowl. At times like these he really hated his Inner Voice.

"Yeah alright, fine. I'm a little boy, so what do you want me to do? Hell, what can I do? I'm just a little boy that-"

"Magic," the inner voice told Harry and instantly Harry stopped.

"I don't know any spell that can make me thirty again." Harry said.

"Growth potion," the inner voice said. "Tried it?"

"Okay fine, you got me there. So I go to Diagon Alley and what not and get me a potions book and some ingredients, I got it."

"That's not all," the inner voice said. "Think about this for a minute. What do you want?"

"I need to kill Tom Riddle," Harry said instantly.

"Exactly and to do that you'll need to get to Hogwarts-"

"But how?"

"Hold on, I'm coming to that. There are two ways you can get into Hogwarts, you can sneak in or you can enter as a student-"

"Or I can apply for a teacher's job." Harry said proudly, as if to say his inner voice was not the only one who could make good plans.

"Or that," his inner voice glumly replied. "Or that."

"Excuse me, did you say something?" the woman asked, looking at Harry with a strange expression on her face.

Oops, I did it again, Harry thought as he felt a red flush heat up his face.

---

Later that night Harry found himself in his new apartment and unable to sleep without any bed covers on the cold hard floor. It was raining heavily outside. The rain drops pelted his window. He looked out and his gaze met with the darkness of the abyss, as he poetically termed it in his mind.

"Come on," his inner voice practically screamed. "The time is right for initiative. Remember what I always told you?"

"Initiative takes the day," harry muttered like a reluctant school boy. "Okay what do you want me to do?"

"Get that growth potion," Inner Voice said.

"Now? Are you crazy? What if I get mugged?"

There was silence as Mr. Inner Voice let Harry realize his own stupidity.

"Okay fine lets go," Harry snapped and got off the floor and headed out the door. He glanced back at his apartment which lit up under a yellow glow from the street light. This was the ghetto where he lived right here and around the corner he knew there would be some druggy selling weed or some gangster offering his goods which would be either prostitutes or guns.

Just the way he liked it.

"Gonna lock your door?"

"What's the point, there's nothing inside," Harry said. 

"Good point. Conjure a coat or something and lets apparrate."

Harry made an ugly face, "I hate apparrating, you know that."

"You want to walk two hundred miles to the leaky cauldron?"

"I'll get a cab," Harry said.

"At this hour? Just apparrate you bloody fool," the voice said.

"Okay okay fine," Harry said and breathed in deep, preparing himself to apparrate out. He focused his energy on his destination – which was the Leaky Cauldron, and popped away.

The Leaky Cauldron was nothing like it used to be, or rather it was something that was completely different from what it would become. Harry always got confused with this time thing. Okay so what to do, he wandered as he looked around in distaste. Instead of the nice clean street that used to exist here this place was a garbage dump. There were several old buildings teeming with raccoons, mosquitoes, flies and bird dung with its paint flaking off and its walls rotting away, and there was few trees but many pieces of liter all over the place. However, to Harry's luck the Leaky Cauldron still existed and it looked pretty much the same as ever, except it had no sign so to speak except for a bright red "CLOSED" sign on its wooden front door.

"Damn, now I gotta break in," Harry said to himself.

"Just go down the back to the alleyway dummy," Inner Critic said.

"Pssh, I hate you," Harry muttered as he jogged past the debris that had collected itself between the Leaky Cauldron and a tall two storied building with pinkish white walls and broken windows.

He came around the back and suddenly noticed that it wasn't raining here. In fact upon examining the sky he could see thousands of stars and even made out a canoe shaped pattern. Then he saw the great wall. He would always remember that wall and the feeling it gave you as you approached the wall. He turned on his sixth sense as he liked to call it. It was just experience, after a while of practicing magic you kind of was able to sense the magic around you, something Harry had little skill in. Hermione was the best because she practiced spells literally twenty four seven, and then Ron because he lived all his life around magic. But Harry was rubbish at his mage sight. Nevertheless he tried to sense the magic around him to figure out the key combination to open the wall.

Tappa tappa tap tap tepety tap tap tap… He tapped the bricks one by one and the wall opened upon itself, rotated inward revealing darkness.

Suddenly a goblin with a wrinkled face and bloodshot eyes popped out, calculator in hand, pad of paper in the other hand. "You there! Name? Age? Status?"

"Err… what?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"NAME AGE STATUS! Don't make me call the aurors on you. Come on I'm just doing my job, don't make trouble for me and I won't make trouble for you," the goblin said. It was short, perched on a stool behind a wide metal table next to the side of the wall. After the goblin were rows upon rows of shops still amazingly opened and shoppers too.

"Sorry I'm new, what is this?"

"New regulations cuz of Grindelwauld and all. So you're not from around here are you? Well then you need to see the auror office. Do you have your passport?"

"No no, I'm from Britain but I'm muggle born and I've not been here for ages."

"I see," the goblin said. "Status, Mudblood, okay now I just need your name and age." It squinted his eyes, "Are you under a glamour?"

"STUN IT YOU FOOL!" His Inner Critic called out. "You need information, not aurors."

"Imperio," Harry said jabbing the wand in the goblin's face. He felt a strange floating sensation under his arm and then he came connected with the goblin's mind. It was strange, kind of like sinking your head in a pail of icy water. "Go about your business. You never saw me… and brush your teeth. Your breath stinks."

"Yes MY Lord." The goblin said monotonously.

"Go on, hurry up," His inner critic urged him.

"Going, going, going," Harry muttered. "Where to first?"

"Apathocary. You don't have any galleons and you need information first as well. So get yourself a newspaper."

"How? I don't have money. You know conjuring galleons is impossible."

"Just steal it, Potter."

"Okay." Harry said and walked down to the apathocary, his gaze bent down. Despite that he could see dwarves with bags over them, black and made of cow hide or something. He saw tall house elves going about almost freely, back straight, chin up, chest out, and he saw wizards, looking quite happy. He needed information about Grindelwauld now, and fast too.

He entered the apathocary, its sign blue and big and bold. Inside it was well lit, its cases organized into shelves. On one side were the books and tomes that related to potions, on the other ingredients. And in the far back Harry heard something… hissing.

He saw the shopkeeper approach him. The woman was elderly and had a humped back. She was covered in a black shawl and carried a staff as well which she used as her cane. Slowly she stumbled her way toward Harry, "You sir, what would you like today?"

"Newspaper, and an elementary potions book please. I need to make a… growth potion for my son. Can you quickly get me the ingredients?" Harry asked nervously.

"Sure can, young sir. Wait one sec," she said and left, ambling about the store for some monments. She came back with the newspaper clutched under her arms, holding a white plastic bag filled to the brim. "Here you go, that will be one galleon and three sickles. Let's go pay at the counter shall we?"

"Can't. Stupefy," Harry incanted and stunned the old woman. He felt sorry for her of course, but his needs were greater. He grabbed the bag, heart pounding because he didn't want to face aurors – he had after all performed an unforgivable. Then he raced out the shop, down the street and out the alley. Once out he immediately apparrated to his apartment where he found several aurors waiting for him, wands out, grim looks upon their faces.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Harry's eyes widened in alarm as he stared at the tip end of thirty or so brown wooden wands pointed straight at him. "Freeze, do not move or else we will execute you!" The captain of the aurors shouted at the top of his lungs. He was a giant with a beard and eyes that whirled electrically. He looked like how Dumbledore would look if Dumbledore was a wrestler.

"Yes sir," Harry said quietly and threw his wand to the floor. Then he threw the bag he was carrying, very lightly so as to not alarm his auror friends. "What is this?"

"We have an arrest warrant for your head, Mr.?"

"You don't even know my name. How can you arrest me?"

"We can and we will," the auror said and grabbed Harry by the shoulder. "Men, lets get him to the department of mysteries," he said.

"Hey what?" Harry asked, "Department of Mysteries? You can't-" Then his vision faded into blackness and he knew nothing.

When he woke up he saw he was in a small metal walled room about four metres by four metres chained to a propped up table. He couldn't move, he could only look around and nudge his neck a bit. His mouth was covered with a face guard and he was completely naked save for a pair of flimsy pajamas.

"Where am I?" Harry murmurred underneath the mouth guard as he looked around. Then a voice came out from the top of the front wall where there was a black speaker box.

"You are under arrest for commiting several acts of unforgivable nature and of being a servant to Lord Grindelwauld. What do you have to say for yourself?" The voice said slowly. Harry couldn't make out whose voice it was, only that it wasn't human. It was morphed and had a metallic quality that let Harry know the speaker did not want Harry to know about himself.

"I am not a henchman of Grindelwauld," Harry protested. "Look, I'm a foreigner alright? I don't know what you are talking about and I demand a trial."

"You won't get any. Will you submit to a veriteserum interrogation?"

"No," Harry promptly responded knowing that the secrets within him were too grave and would be taken to the grave.

"Alright, then we will have to force it upon you. Know that it was your fault in the first place-"

"You can't do that, that goes against my rights."

"-and know that you could have prevented it. Last chance?"

"Go to hell you bastard," Harry said angrily. "I am not going to tell you anything."

"I believe you are wrong about that…" said a pale oldish voice that came from behind him. He couldn't move his neck but he knew who it was. Hell he would have known that voice anywhere.

Albus Dumbledore turned the upward table toward himself. "Hello there," he said in a kindly voice.

Harry's eyes widened. "You!" He blurted out.

"You know me?"

"Yes- I mean no," Harry said at once.

"I see," Dumbledore said.

Harry examined Dumbledore's appearance. He was dressed in a white robe with gold trimmings on the side, looking much younger and without the beard. He wore small round spectacles with silver rims and hidden beneath were blue eyes that twinkled in the dim light coming from a small candle floating over them.

"Wha-what are you going to do to me?" Harry asked warily.

'What is necessary," Dumbledore replied. "I am sorry, but… its war now." He narrowed his eyes and pulled out a bottle from beneath his belt.

Then he gently pried the face mask of Harry's pale face and clenched his nose shut so Harry had no choice but to open his mouth if he wanted to breathe. Then he poured three drops of translucent liquid into his mouth.

Harry's eyes dulled, his mind blanked out and he recognized from the botom of his mind the effects of veriteserum. He was completely under Dumbledore's control.

"What is your name?"

"Harry Potter."

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you related to Jonathon Potter by any chance?"

"Dunno," Harry said.

"I see… Where are you from?"

"Britain."

"So you are not a foreigner?"

"No I am," Harry replied. His mind felt like a waterfall. He couldn't stop his secrets just falling down like water.

"How so?"

"I am a time traveller, I came from 2007 to right now, 1945."

Dumbledore gasped. "Is this the truth?"

"Yes it is," Harry said.

"Okay fine, what was the situation in that time period?"

"Lord Voldemort succeeded in taking over the wizengamot and-"

"Wait, stop. Who is Lord Voldemort?" Albus said, and then took out his wand. He waved it around and conjured a plush yellow armchair and a desk where upon it stood a pad of parchment and a quick notes quill that automatically recorded everything that was said.

"Tom Riddle, Jr."

Albus gasped this time. "The one at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"What's he like?"

There was silence, then… "Evil."

"How did you travel back in time?"

"You helped me."

"How so?"

"You gave me a special time turner you invented."

"Ok, how-" Albus stopped because there was a crash and the door broke open, revealing three aurors behind the captain of the aurors, the giant of a man. Immedaetly Albus shot to his feet, wand out. "Don't interrupt please."

"Albus Dumbledore," the captain said, sneering. "Get out, you old fool."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, the department of mysteries doesn't-" He stopped because Albus crouched on the floor and started murmuring quietly.

"Hey what are you doing?" The captain demanded and was about to step forward along with his aurors before a hole opened up underneath them and they fell. Then the hole dissapeared and the floor was there again.

Albus acted fast, he pulled out another bottle from the sash at his belt and quickly fed Harry the antidote. Harry's gaze cleared, but his mind was still dizzy. "W-who are you?" He said, blurred vision couldn't see Albus Dumbledore.

"Your friend," Albus replied, and cast the stupefy charm on Harry. For the second time Harry's vision blackened.

---

Grindelwauld was not a young man anymore. In fact he was old. So as he sat on his little hammock, overlooking Venice, Italy from his balcony of his ten story apartment he thought about his life.

And death.

He thought about death often, and how he would surpass death but the fact was he didn't know how. He didn't know the secrets of the world, they were kept under a veil that he couldn't lift, under a lock that he had no key to. But he knew the person who had the key to immortal life.

What was immortal life? Grindelwauld thought of it as a circle, it goes around and around and around, summer, fall, spring, winter, hot and cold, ying and yang, old and young and young and old. To be immortal was to go out of the circle so you are not young any more, but not old either. You just stopped aging.

But how to do this? Obviously magic had something to do with the secret but he didn't know how. He studied enough of course, he knew almost every part of magic except the ones that had been lost to all mankind.

But he knew how to gain eternal life – or rather the people who knew.

Demons.

And chuckling softly to himself he opened a little bag, inside the bag was a turquoise ring that held within it a captured demon of the lesser race. He would free it, and the demon would be his slave for all eternity.

A demon's master never died after all.

Laughing softly to himself, red eyes whirling madly, he placed the ring gently on the banister of the balcony and took out his wand. Then he said words that Harry would be familiar with.

Demon summoning words.

----

Harry woke up in a black bed with white sheets on it. Immediately he shot to his feet because he recognized this as the Medical ward at Hogwarts. He reached for his wand which he always kept underneath his belt on the left side, and found to no surprise it wasn't there. He remembered last night perfectly, maybe a side effect to veriteserum and he looked around the room. Thankfully for him he saw that he was all alone in the little room. There was a bed, a desk and a chair. He was in a special room he supposed. It was always referred to as the "Guest Ward" and he knew that if he went outside he would see a plaque on the door that said Guest Ward and beyond that there was the main medic ward where he had spent so much time in in his Hogwarts years.

Then the door opened and Albus Dumbledore walked in, looking very tired and very old. He gave a weak smile to Harry, "How are you, my boy?"

"Fine," Harry said, guardedly. "What happened last night?"

"I rescued you from the department of mysteries and stunned and erased the memories of all personnel who were involved with your case, MR. Potter." Dumbledore said formally but his eyes were twinkling.

"Oh okay, so what do we do now?"

"I think we need to have a little talk. Would you like a cup of tea? Maybe some cake?"

Harry frowned for a second. His stomach answered for him with a thundering roar. "Sure I'll have some," He said and then reflected for a moment on how stupid he had been acting the other day. Maybe he took a stupid pill or something. Why would he expect to get away with doing an unforgivable in the middle of Diagon Alley, and on a goblin no less. Maybe the trip through time or through the ocean had addled his brains or something.

Dumbledore smiled and conjured a silver platter of lemon cranberry muffins and an enormous pot of tea, along with two tea cups that had green dragon engravings on the handles. "Here you go, son," he said and poured tea for Harry. "How old are you anyway? You look no more than five but I'm guessing that's not your real age?"

"I'm thirty," Harry said before he could stop himself. Dumbledore had a way of slipping past your defences like a snake.

"Interesting," Dumbledore murmurred. "I'm almost eighty myself," he said.

"Good to know," Harry said. "When I left you were about two hundred."

"I lived for so long?" Dumbledore asked, incredulous. Then he began chuckling merrily. "Well that's good news to hear for the future I suppose. What else?"

"Err… McGonnagall is a transfiguration teacher."

"Minerva?"

"Yeah, and I'm the head of the Order of the Phoenix."

Dumbledore's expression froze instantly, his cheeks became a pale white and his blue eyes whirled furiously. "How do you know about that?" he whispered. "I've only just thought about forming the club."

"You formed it when you defeated Grindelwauld," Harry said, "But then when Lord Voldemort came-"

"Oh of course, how silly of me. There I go forgetting little details again. This Lord Voldemort character… is he like Grindelwauld by any chance?"

"I don't know Grindelwauld," Harry admitted. "Never really got into history much."

"Perfectly understandable, I know Mr. Binns can be a bit boring-" he stopped. "You did go to Hogwarts didn't you?"

Harry nodded, "I was head of the Quidditch team too, Gryfindor."

Dumbledore smiled wistfully, "Won the cup?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "You were headmaster by the way."

"Not Armandallo Dippet?" Dumbledore said blue eyes twinkling.

"No, he retired I think, don't really know."

"Anyway lets get back on topic," Dumbledore suggested. "Now we have to plan this out thorougly but first I have to say something."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I am absolutely convinced that time travelling so far into the past is impossible."

Harry couldn't help himself, he started laughing. "You invented it, though, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled, "Well I won't be so arrogant as to claim that it was entirely my accomplishment. Perhaps Flamel helped me."

"No, it was you. Flamel died, Voldemort almost got the philosopher's stone in my first year and then he ordered it to be destroyed."

"First year?" Dumbledore asked.

"Ya you won't believe it but…" Harry proceeded to tell Albus everything he knew about his life, his past with the Dursleys, being the boy who lived, Sirius, the prophecy, the horcruxes. Then finally after he had told Dumbledore everything he could think of, with the future headmaster asking several probing questions, he drooped his eyes.

"You must be exhausted," Albus said. "Listen, I have classes soon so I'll come back later but meanwhile, don't go out of this room. Nobody knows you are here except me and I would like it to stay that way for a while."

"How long Albus?" Harry asked, tired.

"Why, until you get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job of course," Dumbledore said, grinning widely.

"Really?"

"Yes, I am fully confident that you will be perfect for the job. The old teacher, Mr. Theodorous Wulfhorn has retired, and Mr. Dippet is getting pretty desperate. He really needs a new teacher now."

"I suppose I'll-" Harry yawned and fell slowly into the bed. "I'll accept," he said before closing his eyes.

Dumbledore's face sobered and he looked sadly at the young man before him who had been through so much pain. He could sense the darkness within this man and it scared him, not because Harry hadn't succombed to the darkness but precisely because of it.

Harry must have an iron will to be able to take so much hurt and pain and still be able to go on. It inspired Albus to further his own plans of defeating Grindelwauld. The final battle would soon come, he knew and he had been avoiding it for a while. But with Harry's help maybe he could defeat Lord Grindelwauld. The greatest menace to society beside…

…Beside Voldemort probably. But Tom Riddle could be saved too. Dumbledore recognized the similarities between the two men, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, and he was sure that both of them could be saved.

He left the room and closed it behind him softly and then left for his afternoon transfiguration class, where he knew Tom Riddle would be there, listening with rapt attention with those sharp ice like black eyes of his.

----

The pale light in the sky came from the silvery moon, and Hobargo Dassh loved the moon. The roared in feiry delight as he lay on the ground of the forbidden forest, about to transform into a wolf. He was the best wolf-captain in theh entire world, Grindelwauld's highest henchman, and here he was out alone, the entire Forbidden Forest alotted to him and to him only. He remembered through a red haze that came from excessive drinking. Grindelwauld had said to him, "The next full moon… Go to the Forbidden Forest…" his words was like shadow, and every time the crimson lord opened his mouth to speak, Hobargo felt like he had just smoked a shot of diggerweed.

Grindelwauld had came to him dressed in a red cloak that burned brighter than any fire in the darkness of the full moon, and holding a curved silver sabre with him. He was in his wolf form then, he charged at the lone figure thinking easy prey and what he got was a slash to the neck. Grindelwauld moved faster than Hobargo as a wolf could, which was saying something indeed because Hobargo was the mightiest werewolf in all of New Mexico, America.

Grindelwauld was merciless and he attacked without pausing. He slashed at the wolf's paws, at his shoulder blades, at his face and at his body without pausing. The silver blade felt like hot iron thrusting into him, even worse in fact. It pained and hurt like nothing Hobargo had ever felt before, and just a minute of this relentless assault left him panting and breathing hard, and crouched, bowing his new master. He used to be an alpha, but now there was a new leader in the pack, a strong and determined leader, and Hobargo had been the first to bow to him.

He remembered that night proudly, sure he had been defeated but he had fought his best. He was glad he was serving such a strong man, a man who could even best a werewolf with nothing more than a silver sabre. He didn't know how much Grindelwauld had prepared for that night, how carefully his lord had chosen the sight and the werewolf, how precisely he had made those potions which would grant him strength for a limited time. Grindelwauld wasn't all powerful or anything, but he was exact and like a sword when he decided to do something, wherever he decided to thrust, he would succeed… and blood would fall.

This was his tenth mission, and his final mission. Grindelwauld had promised him the entire world if he could succeed in this mission.

"The job is simple, you only have to follow my instructions – go to the Forbidden Forest at the next full moon. There will be three children out on detention duty. You are to bite them, and then withdraw. Don't kill them or anything. We will show the world that Grindelwauld can strike anywhere!"

Hobargo howled at the full moon as he felt himself transforming into a bright silver werewolf, a beast the size of a horse with sharp claws and even sharper fangs. Growling and barking, he sped off, eager to do his job.

----

Ar nightfall Dumbledore enterred the room and saw at once Harry pacing around it. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just goddam bored out of my mind that's all. Look, I made a list of what we need to do," Harry said and immediately jumped into his bed like any fire year old would do, and leapt to the other side where he thrusted his hands to the floor and picked up a notebook. He opened it and ripped out a page and handed it to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore closed the door behind him and looked at the list. "Yes this is what I was thinking too but first we need to get you a growth potion-"

"No first I want my wand," Harry said shortly. "Holly and Phoenix feather, I think twelve or eleven inches. I always forget the size."

"What kind of phoenix?"

"Fawkes, you bonded to him yet?"

"The red and gold one? I've seen him around here and there," Dumbledore admitted. "Look, Harry, I'll see what I can do but you need to realize that I am a very busy man-"

"I don't fucking care," Harry said. "I need only two things from you. A growth potion and a wand. Then I can handle myself on my own."

"And what will you do?"

"I…" Harry shrugged. "I don't really know. I guess I just need to wait until you defeat Grindelwauld-"

"You aren't going to help me with it?"

"Why should I? You did it on your own once, you can do it again."

"But maybe in your universe I got help from you too?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, this is why I doin't think time travelling can work. You create paradoxes and-"

"Listen I don't care about that stuff alright?" Harry said shortly. "I've been doiing some thinking and I think that you and I… well we were great partners once you know? But that was back then. You're different now. You aren't Gandalf anymore-"

"Gandalf?"

"-and I'm not Darth Vadar."

"I'm afraid I don't understand Harry."

"Doesn't matter," Harry said rapidly. "This is what I'm goiing to do, you read the list but just in case you didn't understand I'll outline it for you. I won't be the DADA teacher, and I won't be your little soldier."

"Harry, think of the good-"

"Listen to me goddamit," Harry muttered. "What I need from you is this: a wand, and a growth potion. I want to be twenty years old again. I'll do normal things, I'll go on a road trip or something across the country and I'll just basically relax-"

"A road trip?" Dumbleodre asked, inredulously. "Are you fucking serious? A road trip?"

Harry's eyes widened, he had never heard Dumbledore swear before. "I-"

"Don't you realize… Don't you understand the hurt and pain Grindelwauld is causing? I've been waiting for a chance to fight him. He used to be my best friend you know. I don't think I can do it by myself. I need you. You have experience, you are a powerful wizard-"

"Look, I understand your situation, okay? I really do. Normally I'd help you but… I can't. I just can't do it again okay? You don't understand how I lived, how I exhausted myself."

"Then explain it to me, explain to me how it wasn't worth it."

"It was, it really was worth it," Harry said, "I saved a lot of good lives but here and now, the responsibility isn't mine. Its yours. This is your business to deal with, not mine and as such I can't help you out. I came here for my own reasons."

"I think I can guess what they are," Dumbledore said sourly.

"You won't be able to stop me," Harry warned. "No matter what, I'll kill Tom Riddle."

"I won't let you," Dumbledore said firmly.

Harry gaped. "You're kidding… what the bloody hell do you mean you won't let me? DO YOU FUCKING REALIZE WHO THAT BOY IS?"

"Yes, but he can change."

"He released the basilisk you know, he killed his own father, he made horcruxes."

"I understand that, but he can change," Dumbledore stood his ground.

Harry sneered, "Do you know who I am? You are just an old man, you can't stop me. HE KILLED MY PARENTS!"

"No, Lord Voldemort killed your parents, not Tom Riddle."

Harry's face reddened as he clenched his teeth in anger. He raised his fists and charged, not knowing what he would do, just going by his emotions.

Dumbledore raised his wand and bended his knees, going into a semi dueller's stance. He too was tense and a bit angry at the boy.

Harry jumped, higher than Dumbledore thought he could. He jumped right over the old man, using his head as a balance and ran away out of the room.

Dumbledore turned around, "Stupefy!" He said, a red bolt of light jutted out of his wand and almosst hit Harry. Harry ducked and leapt under a bed. He came crawling out on the other side, jumped over a bed, jumped onto a bed and used that as a spring to leap to the door where he opened it and ran down the halls.

Dumbledore started running down after him, intent on at the very least tackling the boy to the floor and getting him back to his room. If anybody found out about Harry it woiuldn't be pretty, especially the young Julia Roberto, the Italian arthimatic magic teacher. She already thought Dumbledore was a pervert, it would tarnish his reputation to be seen chasing around after a little boy so he had to end this fast.

Harry however was in a hypnotic trance like state that he often went into whenever he was in battle. He was concentrated completely on his goal. What was his goal? He didn't quite know but his Inner Critic knew. "Turn right here," Mr. Inner Critic said. "See that girl over there? She has a wand in her wand hostler. Grab it."

The young girl had curly copper hair and bright blue eyes. She was looking at one of the paintings, probably wandering how it moved. Harry guessed she was a first year and he wasn't wrong.

He tapped her on the shoulder and he found it uncomfortable that she was taller than him. That was strange but because he was five years old in his physical state… it didn't really matter.

"Hey whatcha doing here?" She said turning around and looking at him with a critical eye. "How old are you? Are you one of the teacher's children?"

"I'm Dumbledore's grandson," Harry said, grinning. "Can I borrow your wand please?"

She pulled out the wand from her hostler. "What for?" She asked.

Harry didn't answer, just flashed her a grin, and snatched the wand. Then he raced down the hall. The girl, whose name was Alice, watched in perplexion. Then she scowled. "Hey gimme my wand back!"

"He's got your wand?" a voice said behind her, sounding ragged and tired.

"Professor Dumbledore?" the girl said. "Yeah, your grandson stole my wand."

"My grandson?"

"That's what he told me. I wan't my wand back!"

"I'll get it, child," Dumbledore said and raced down the hall. Alice followed on his heels. "Where's my wand?!" she yelled.

Harry looked back, hearing their shouts. "This is going to make it tougher for Dumbledore. I don't want to make problems for the old man…"

"Just get the hell out of here," His Inner Critic said. "To the library."

"Right," Harry said and knew that was two floors up. He climbed the stairs two at a time, dodged around students in the hallway, stopped when he saw two girls necking at each other and continued on his way, understanding uncomfortably that while he did not have hormonnes, he still had sexual desire.

He turned left and enterred the library where all was quiet. There he stopped a bit, panting hard. God, he hand't run this hard in a long time. He had to get fit. "What do I need here?" He asked his Inner Critic.

"Get some books. You'll need to study," Mr. Inner Critic said. "Go to the restricted section."

When he entered the restricted section, he saw it was dimly light and the rows and rows of shelves did look very familiar. When he was fighting Voldemort almost every day he didn't have time to study, mostly he learned spells on the fly and his favorite spell was still "expelliarmus" but "avada kedavra" was soon taking a second favorite and gaining ground on his top spell because of its efficiency and almost zero use of energy.

What he saw made him stop and feeze.

Tom Riddle.

He was sitting behind a desk, reading a dark black book with vigour and fascination. Harry gulped. Tom immediately looked up. 'Who are you?" He asked quickly.

"Err… Albus's grandson," he said, mouth dry. He didn't know why he felt such fear, and already he started hating himself for it. He had faced Voldemort many times, many many times, he thought he was over his fear of Lord Voldemort but why… why was he so scared?

He had the wand in his hand. He had the chance right here. He was planning to return to Hogwarts in the dead of night to find Tom Riddle and kill him but now that Tom was right in front of him, looking at him with hawk eyes he didn't know if he could do it.

Could he kill… that monster?

Or would he die trying?

Slowly, reluctantly, he got into a loose duelling stance and raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Harry pointed his wand straight at Tom Riddle as he shot the spell, and then immediately upon reflex he ducked for the oncoming spell he was expecting but surprisingly it didn't come. He looked up and noticed Tom's smirking face and underneath that confusion. In Tom's hand was his black wand, brandished like a scalpel. He had blocked Harry's spell with a simple shield, but of course Harry knew it would be blocked. He was just trying to find out Tom's skill level.

He realized something, Tom's skill wasn't very good. It was nothing like the future Voldemort's skill, and he realized another thing. Tom was just a student. He wasn't really Voldemort, not completely anyway.

Harry stopped for a second as the two stared at each other. Tom stood up from his chair and started forward, "Listen, I don't know who you are, but I am the head boy. You can't just throw spells at me, understand?"

Wordlessly Harry nodded because he was at a loss of words. Inside him his Inner Critic was doing what it did best, criticizing. "What the Hell are you trying to pull? Where's your ruthlessness now you big sissy! What the-"

Then it shut up when it realized Harry wasn't listening which was really a shame because Harry really should have killed Tom.

But Harry just realized something.. . a cold realization like an icy bucket of water that hit him right in the face.

It didn't really matter if he killed Tom or not, because it wouldn't make a difference. Voldemort had already caused all the suffering, that wasn't going to change. This was a completely new world, one that Harry invaded without permission. Should he, no, did he have a right to change this world? If he did…. He would never be the same. Maybe he would never have met Ron or Hermione, maybe he would never have developed his close relationship with Dumbledore…

If Harry killed Voldemort now, he would change everything. The whole world would change, but for better or for worse? While he had not had the most perfect life, he had to admit to himself: His life had been good. He made some friends, and got close to many people. Of course they got killed but he did have a grand time living HIS life. If he killed Voldemort he would be living somebody else's life – a more peaceful Harry Potter, with his parents and maybe siblings too. But did he really want that?

"Sorry," Harry apologized, smiling a bit.

Tom smiled back, "Is okay, what's your name?"

"Harry Po-" He stopped himself, remembering his disguise. "Harry Dumbledore."

Tom nodded, "Nice to meet you, my name is Tom Marvelo Riddle."

"You can make anagrams with that," Harry said. "Tom Marvelo Riddle… Velomarot Middler… Lord-"

"Harry! There you are!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he ran into the library's restricted section. Behind the old man, Alice followed. "Gimme my wand you little bugger!"

"Sorry," Harry murmured and tossed Alice her wand back. Dumbledore tried to take control of the situation.

"Ah Tom Riddle, well we seem to have a little problem now don't we. Little Harry's being a trouble maker-"

"Sorry grandpa," Harry supplied, helping sustain the image he had invented. In truth he didn't really mind, he always thought of Dumbledore as his grandfather anyway.

"Well, Harry, this is a school and the students here must study to get good grades. You can't just barge all over the place. Understand, young man?"

"Aw don't yell at him, Professor," Tom said, smiling. "Is alright."

"Don't ever try to steal my wand again," Alice warned and stormed out of the library.

"No no, Tom, Harry is in big trouble. From now on you are confined to your quarters until the rest of your stay, understand Harry?"

Now Harry was regretting wasting his chance at killing Tom Riddle. This man… he wanted his revenge now, but with Dumbledore there, eyeing him sternly he knew he couldn't do much. So he stuffed his hands in his pockets and eyed the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But inside he was already making new plans. He saw an opportunity for a good disguise here. As Dumbledore's prodigal grandfather he could go anywhere in the school without a second look and he could move his plans forward in time to meet Riddle.

This time, he would kill Riddle. Tom Riddle was a dead man, Harry would make sure of it. He would have many chances at killing Riddle and he would not waste it. Besides, who would suspect Dumbledore's cute grandson Harry?

"Yes sir," Harry murmured, crossing his fingers behind his back. He did this for Tom's benefit, like he was sounding out a challenge. I'm going to get you Tom, he said in his head. 'You could have gotten him already,' his inner critic replied.

"Good boy now go back to your room," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry for the interruption to your studies Tom."

"No problem professor, I don't mind at all. Its good to have a break once in a while," Tom replied as he sat back down.

"How's your research going?"

"I've almost completed it I think," Tom said.

"Tell me about it," Dumbledore said, sitting down. Harry's ears perked up, knowing that Dumbledore was doing it for his benefit. But why?

"Um, okay," Tom said uncomfortably. "Basically I'm trying to make a potion that will enhance your physical appearances and your body so it will be kind of like… surpassing the limits of your muscles."

"I understand, how are you going to do this though? I must admit, I am quite curious."

"Well, most of the things that do this needs a sacrifice like an arm or a limb. Basically I'm trying to make it so that the sacrifice is not your body part but a simple object."

"That must be as much as the arm or leg right? So you sacrifice your most valuable objects for good health. I like it I think," Dumbledore said.

"How do you make potions?" Harry asked, trying to bolster his image of the naive five year old. And he wanted to know how too.

Tom laughed and joked, "Just chuck things in a pot and boil."

Dumbledore laughed along, "Always charming to talk with you Mr. Riddle." Then he got up and held out his hand. Tom shook it. "I have to go oversee a detention in the Forbidden Forest now, but lets continue this discussion later. Maybe I can help you."

"Thanks, Professor Dumbledore."

"No problem, my boy," Dumbledore said, grinning.

"Hey can I come with you?" Harry asked, eyes pleading.

"Where?"

"To the Forbidden Forest of course. I've never seen it."

"Its dangerous, Harry," Albus warned.

"I don't care, I want to see it."

"Looks like you've got a Gryfindor, professor," Tom said smiling slightly but his eyes had gone cold.

"This young brat is pretty cunning though… quite the trouble maker," Dumbledore said and sighed. Then as if acting like Harry couldn't hear – Harry was at the doorway – he whispered, "His parents died… attacked by Grindelwauld. He's been through a tramautic experience. I hope you don't tell anyone about him yet because I haven't even informed Dippet about this."

"Don't worry sir, your secret is safe with me," Tom declared. In an hour it was around the school, as Dumbledore knew the story would spread. 

"Come on then Harry, lets go."

"Bye Tom," Harry said, inwardly thinking of how many ways he could kill Tom right now without Dumbledore noticing. He had exactly zero ideas.

As they walked through the hallway, Dumbledore whispered, "How could you do this! Now you've ruined everything and-"

"Let's go see the headmaster, we'll talk about this later." Harry whispered back. "There are people in the hallway."

Dumbledore said nothing but they headed for the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office anyway. The old man spoke the password, "Gingersweet," and the gargoyle opened but Harry thought it winked at him. He wasn't very sure though.

They walked up the staircase in silence but Harry watched Dumbledore's facial expressions from the corner of his eye to see if it would leak any information and Dumbledore did likewise. Both had tried to get past each other's shields but that was impossible because while Harry might not be that adept at occlumency or legilimency he could still form a good iron shield in his mind that Dumbledore couldn't penetrate. His legilimency attacks however were like hammer throws… using hammers made out of paper.

"I think it would be best if you stayed silent," Dumbledore said as they knocked on the door. Harry took his advice and didn't answer him.

"Come in," Dippet's voice said. His voice was very wheezy and as they entered Dippet gave a cough. He was a small rat like man that Harry thought looked like Peter Pettigrew and he also had the same beady eyes as Pettigrew. Their likeness was uncanny. At once Harry did not trust him and Harry knew Dumbledore didn't trust Dippet much either.

"Ah Albus, how are you doing?"

"Fine thank you, Armandillo. Meet my grandson Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Strange, I didn't know you had a grandson."

Dumbledore shrugged. "I've got some family here and there. His mother's a muggle blood."

"Mudblood you mean," Dippet said.

"Muggle blood," Dumbledore repeated. "My wife was the same before she died. So was my mother. I guess… it runs in the family."

"So why is he here?"

"His parents are dead; Grindelwauld attacked them last night and I'm the only one he's got. Now the way I see it is, either he stays at Hogwarts or I'll have to leave."

"Bloody hell not you too!" Dippet moaned.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Slughorn quit," Dippet told him. "Said it was private business. Bullshit I say, that man's a coward through and through."

"I see… unfortunately I don't have any ideas for you," Dumbledore said. "A teacher's job is not particularly wanted these days I suppose since everyone's leaving Britain."

"Yes, you know it." Dippet said. "I suppose you'll want him to attend classes too?"

"I don't really care," Dumbledore told him truthfully. "He won't make a nuisance of himself. Probably spend most of his time in the library."

"I see, well I suppose," Dippet said. "Under ordinary conditions I'd refuse of course but this is different."

"Rightly so, Armandillo," Dumbledore said. "Things are tense these days."

"You could do something about it," Dippet said glaring.

"What do you mean?"

Dippet sighed and waved his arms. "Look at you Albus! Everyone knows you can do it, you can defeat Grindelwauld. You two were best friends for godsakes, if you can't do it nobody can.

"I'm just a teacher-"

"Cut the crap Albus. Just… just get out of here alright. Go to your detention or whatever." Dippet said, and thrust his hand in a drawer and pulled out a big cigar, which he lit with his wand and huffed a deep one.

"Go!" He roared. "I don't want to see you here, alright."

"Come on Harry, lets go," Dumbledore said. "G'bye Armandillo." As he closed the door, they heard a glass vase crash into it. Dumbledore sighed as they walked down the stairs.

"Is he always like that?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said grimly and then they spoke not a word as they went out the castle and toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest where three students were waiting beside a giant of a man who Harry knew had to be Hagrid. "Hey!" he called out.

"Hagrid, how do you do?" Dumbledore said as they neared.

"Hiya there," Hagrid said his voice deep and mighty. "Who you got there Professor?"

"My grandson Harry, he's going to accompany us on this little expedition."

"But Professor, the Forbidden Forest is a dangerous place for a little boy-"

"I'm not little," Harry said before he could stop himself. Dammit he was acting like a little boy even though he wasn't.

"Don't worry, Hagrid, it will be fine. You and Fang will be there right?"

"Oui Oui!"

"French?"

"I'm learnin," Hagrid said, blushing a bit. "I need to do something with my free time…"

"I see, not bad," Dumbledore said. "Still if you want I could give you some magic books to practice with."

"But you know I can't use a wand-"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "Indeed Hagrid, indeed. Now lets go."

Harry examined the trio who had detention. Two boys one girl, all of them in third year and looking very frightened. The girl had coppery hair and Harry realized with a start that it was…

"Alice!" Harry blurted out.

"Yeah," Alice said sulkily. "Don't steal my wand, alright you little squirt?"

"I won't," Harry said, smiling cheekily and already planning ways to steal her wand. Maybe he could show her some wandless magic-

'What's this, lil Potter got a crush already?' His inner critic exclaimed.

'You know all Potters fall for the redheads," Harry said cheerfully back in his mind. Aloud he said, "I promise I won't steal your wand. Really!"

Alice simply snorted. "Come on, lets go."

The other two boys were silent with sandy hair, one fat one thin, one with black furious eyes, one with blue sad looking eyes, both scared to hell and back of this Forbidden Forest.

"It's a full moon, there might be werewolves." Harry said to them, winking. "Wouldn't it be fun to see one."

They quivered. "Really?" said the fat one.

"Really," Harry said as they started walking into the forest, Harry in the front, Dumbledore in the back. Hagrid way up ahead, acting as the scout.

"What are your names?" Harry asked.

"My name's Jimmy MacFarlogue," said the fat one.

"I'm Atillio, from Italy."

"Interesting, exchange student?"

"Ya, who are you?"

"Harry Po-" Harry stopped. "I mean, Harry Dumbledore. I'm the old man's grandson."

"Really?" Jim asked.

"Really," Harry said.

"Don't listen to the little brat. He's pulling your leg," Alice said from up ahead.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So what did you do to deserve this?"

"We sneaked-" Atillio started chuckling. "-We sneaked into the kitchens and put Helix potions into all the food."

"What's that?"

"My own invention," Alice said, "it turns you into a ball of poo."

"What?"

"Yeah, it was especially fun to watch you, Professor Dumbledore. I wish I brought a camera."

"I'm sure," Dumbledore said but there was no twinkle in his eye.

Jim: a muggle born with a quick mathematical mind, born with innate intelligence and always getting good marks like Hermione but with a streak of trouble in him the size of Niagara falls.

Attilio: a pureblood who is an exchange student at Hogwarts. Originally going to beuxbatons, he was the one who gave Hagrid some French study books to learn the language. Very creative and crazy for girls. But not Alice. He hates Alice's guts.

Alice: rude, troublemaker with a snarky attitude. The Malfoy of the past, except she was muggle born, cute and didn't mean to hurt feelings. So not like Malfoy.

That's what Harry gleaned from further conversation with the three kids as they walked through the Forest. They were looking for Moonflowers for a potion the seventh years were working on and moonflowers only bloomed on the full moon. Dumbledore was with them for security just in case there were any dangerous beasts willing to attack them and Hagrid always came on all trips into his forest. 

Then just as Harry was about to steal Alice's wand from her lax hand, a werewolf jumped out of the trail path and attacked Hagrid. It was big as a mountain, grey furred and had red bloodshot eyes. Dumbledore moved fast, a chain of pure molten silver shot out of his wand and onto Hagrid and the wolf, who were wrestling in the floor. Harry saw in slow motion the wolf bite Hagrid in the neck, then leap back from the silver, dodge around Dumbledore and go for Alice. Thinking fast he grabbed her wand, waved it in a triangle and said, "Concardio!"

A small bronze shield formed a dome over the pair. Wolf banged into it with a loud thud and slid down to the forest floor. Jim and Atillio watched panicked. Dumbledore recouvered fast and shot silver bullets from his wand which went ping ping ping as they hit the bronze shield. One bullet hit the wolf in the hind leg, the other two missed. The wolf slunk around the bronze dome and leapt toward Jim. Atillio acted fast, "Carsio," he said and was flung back as a white hot spear shot into the wolf's stomach, almost killing it. The wolf fell, whining hard, eyes wide and drool coming out of the sides of its fanged mouth. Then it got up again for one last attack, and leapt for Jim but changed its mind half leap and go straight for Harry, who had dissapitated the bronze shield.

Harry punched the wolf, a reflexive action that was completely useless because he was a weak little five year old. The wolf bit his hand off but didn't do much else because Dumbledore attacked it like a torrent, casting spell after spell, lightning bolts shot out, the mud below the wolf boiled and changed into quicksand and Atillio shot some of his white hot spears at the wolf too. Alice and Harry stood transfixed as they stared at Harry's right hand, or what was left of it. Now it was just a bleeding stump.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. He grabbed Alice's wand from the ground next to it and performed the only healing charm he knew. "Incendio," he said, burning the stump and hardening it. He grimaced but he was used to pain so this didn't bother him much. Alice winced and started crying. So did Jim. Atillio gave a proud grin but wavered when he saw Harry's hand and Hagrid's dead body.

Dumbledore stumbled over to them, pale white and tears streaming down from his eyes. "I am sorry, I am sorry, so sorry, oh god I'm bloody useless," he murmured as he started healing Harry.

Harry who was trying to control the pain mentally sighed in relief when he felt a coolness wash over the pain in his hand. But then something else happened. His blood… felt like it was boiling. Everything started spinning around in circles and slowly he turned his eyes to the full moon up ahead, its silver light forming a beam around Harry.

He howled into the night sky, and started transforming. First his back so he became on all fours and grew fur all over. Then his front legs and hind legs changed and last of all his face. He grew a muzzle, his eyes changed, became softer, more clearer, his feet developed claws and most of all, his right hand… or paw… was back. And he grew a tail. He howled and sped off into the forest.

"You three go back, take Hagrid with you!" Dumbledore yelled and then followed Harry into the forest.

Grindelwauld watched, crouched on a tree limb. He thought: The boy is powerful. He could be a useful ally to me. Then he looked beside him to the floating demon that only he could see. "What do you think?" He asked.

The floating demon was over ten feet tall with a completely white mask like face and dressed in a dark robe that covered his entire body except for his gloved hands which held bright red swords that were held loosely to the side. His name was Aikod, and he served Grindelwauld.

"I think… the boy, I smell demon off him. He is a strange one. We should kill him."

"I was thinking of having him join me when he grew a bit older actually," Grindelwauld said.

"No, kill him. He is too dangerous and will be a threat to you later on."

"As you say, wise one," Grindelwauld said. "But I won't under any circumstances touch my friend Albus. Apparrato!" Then with a pop they were gone, having apparrated off Hogwart's supposedly unapparratable grounds.

Dumbledore raced after Harry, sweat beads lining his face, eyes moving back and forth with furious desperation. He ran over tree limbs and bushes, through branches and vegetation, ignoring the centaurs who looked offended, the giant spiders who sensed the magical energy Dumbledore eminated and backed away, the adder snakes in the forest who would never dare attack a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore.

Albus's goal was to contain Harry just in case the boy bit anyone or anything. He knew with a feeling of uncomfortable guilt that there was a camp of refugees in the forest that he had given permission to stay. They were hiding from Grindelwauld and they were as such Dumbledore's responsibility.

Harry's mind was lost in an angry haze of werewolf madness as he raced through the forest, drooling from the corners of his mouth. He wanted food, but more than that he had an intense urge to spread his sickness, to spread his pain to other people. People he hated when he was under the werewolf curse, people who Harry considered himself part of… until now.

Now all had changed.

Now Harry was a werewolf.

This world was different, he was different now and he realized at the back of his mind, the part that wasn't caught up in the wolf haze that nothing would ever be the same now. He felt a sense of melancholy invade into his bloodlust and he looked up at the silver moon and howled.

That made it seem better. A silver moon, a silver bullet. The latter could kill him, the former gave him life. Inside his head he heard nothing but a slight tribal drumming noise, and a chant: KILL KILL KILL; SPREAD THE SICKNESS; SPREAD THE PAIN; HOWL! KILL KILL KILL; SPREAD THE SICKNESS; SPREAD THE PAIN; HOWL!

It went on like that over and over like some vicious circle of life.

Something he wasn't part of any more.

Because… Harry Potter was a werewolf. g


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harry the wolf sped through the forest and Dumbledore followed, hot on his trails. But Dumbledore was an old man by now and he did not possess his youth anymore. So he did what he did best: he used magic. Dumbledore pulled out his wand from the sash at his waist and waved it in the air, thinking of the right spell to catch the elusive newly formed werewolf. "Insipario," he said and winced as his body started changing slightly. His muscles tightened, the little pot belly at his waist disappeared because he was using his body fat for energy. This was his own invention; one that he had kept from Tom out of a certain sense of jealousy. They were both geniuses and Dumbledore always felt he had to compete with Tom's almost daily discoveries and achievements. Pride would be his downfall, Dumbledore thought from the corners of his mind as his body became tighter and taller like a stick figure. He grew as big as a tree, and as skinny as a penny. A wind might blow him away but luckily there was no wind in the air right now.

Then he leapt from tree to tree, cutting the land away. He saw in the far horizon a silver figure leaping away and he smiled. He was catching up. He leapt higher into the air, looking like he was on the level with the silver moon that had caused this.

Suddenly he got an idea, a very very crazy idea but why not? It might work. Did he have enough magical energy for that though? What if he exhausted himself to the brink of death?

Still he had to try this, this might be his greatest achievement. Why didn't he think of this before? Now… now he had an idea, a very weird idea but the potential for it was astounding. This could cure werewolf disease forever. He chuckled to himself as he dissapitated the spell and fell slowly to the ground. He changed into his regular form and started pacing, knowing he didn't have much time. But what kind of spell was he to use?

What spell was strong enough to blow the moon up?

He knew what to do. He could layer the spell reducto until it became a hundred – no a thousand times more powerful than ever before. This would be an unbelievable beam of light that would go off worse than the nuclear bomb that recently exploded somewhere in Japan.

He grinned to himself; he just had to do it. He pointed his wand at the moon, crouched down and started whispering under his breath while rotating his wand very carefully in a tight highly controlled circle. "Reducto… reducto… reducto…" he did this for at least two minutes until a ball of red light grew at the tip of his wand. It vibrated and threatened to explode in Dumbledore's face. He kept up with layering the spell until he felt his arm vibrate and shake from sheer exhaustion. His face was sweaty and his finger tips exploded as he let the ball of destruction lose in the general direction of the moon.

Then he was thrown back into soft green moss and he caught a perfect view of the ball of destruction moving like a red comet across the night sky. It reached the moon in seconds, going at the speed of light and all, and boom, the moon exploded in a shower of red sparks that lit up the sky. Wave after wave of red energy sped across the globe. The tides of the ocean started going haywire, floods and storms erupted throughout Earth. It was a natural disaster and muggle scientists – and even wizard researchers from the department of mysteries – would label this as a natural disaster, "A comet of the size of the moon crashed into our moon, destroying it." Dumbledore could picture it now. With a smile of relief he closed his eyes and gave in to his exhaustion. There was one last painful howl as Harry's transformation reversed itself. With no moon, how could Harry transform?

Harry lay on the ground right there for an hour or so, panting hard, eyes open and strained to its breaking point, body exhausted, cuts all over his arms, legs and stomach that must have come from the screwed up transformation. Still, he felt the chant go through his mind, his vision was a haze as he saw images that he knew couldn't exist: floating jelly beings going through the sky, giant red purple snakes in ethereal ghostlike form going through the forest and…

Now he saw something that he knew with certainity was real. A white masked giant demon approaching him, two swords held out in a giant V that faced Harry and a man followed behind the demon, looking nervous, red eyes flickering left and right. At first he thought it was Voldemort but it couldn't be because Voldemort had pale white skin, and snake like slits. This man though was nicely tanned and looked German or Italian, Harry couldn't tell. Then he spoke, "Hurry up, kill the boy," his voice a mere whisper.

"Its not easy, he has no soul."

"What? How is this possible?"

"A time traveler I would think," said the demon. "He probably crossed universes, but I thought this art was a secret of my race… interesting…"

"So maybe he can be useful to us? I would like to try journeying across universes-"

The demon glared at the small man, "And lose your soul?"

"You don't have one either though so it can't be that bad…"

"I was once a human just like you. I am a half demon, you know. But still the gateway is restricted to me because I don't have a soul."

"Gateway?"

"To God," the demon said. "Only those with souls can go through and meet with the highest being in the universes."

"I see…" the man said, but he still looked tempted to Harry.

"Dumbledore… he's powerful, why don't you kill him?"

"No, out of the question," the small man said. "Why should I bother? He is not doing anything to fight me, except maybe helping refugees from my attacks. I don't care about that though."

"It won't be long before he starts fighting you," the demon said.

Harry didn't know who these people were but he was for once scared. Here he was, helpless, he couldn't even move one of his fingers, how could he fight these two who wanted to kill him?

"I know that," the small man said. "I'll deal with it when it comes, alright?"

"Whatever you say," the demon said.

"Now why don't you kill him already?"

"I don't think I can do it," the demon said.

"And why the hell not?"

"I told you already, he has no soul, so if I kill him all that will happen is he will come alive again… in another universe."

"In another universe?"

"Precisely."

"So if I kill him right here, he won't be in this world anymore right?"

"Yes."

"So…" The small man stepped forward, grinning evilly. "I can kill him." Then he stopped. "How many universes are there?"

The demon shrugged. "Infinity number, I suppose."

"I see," Grindelwauld said and raised his wand, tip pointing toward Harry. "Goodbye my boy, Avada-" He stopped and looked carefully at the demon. "We need to leave, Dumbledore's coming." Then he waved his wand around and said "Apparrato." The two figures disappeared into the air.

Harry slowly felt feeling and energy regaining in his body, enough to crane his neck and look up at the approaching figure. Albus Dumbledore looked more exhausted then ever, wrinkles pronounced over his bushy beard and blue eyes. Dead eyes, no twinkling. "My boy, are you alright?" He said, voice sounding hoarse like he couldn't breathe.

Harry blinked. Was he alright? Could he get up? He could try. He tried to get up, pushing off with bruised arms and with a deep groan he rose to his feet. "I'm fine," he croaked out, too tired to say anything about Grindelwauld and the demon. At least not yet. He had some major thinking to do first. "Let's go back."

"Yes, lets," Dumbledore said, put an arm over Harry's shoulder and together they stumbled back to the trail, this time with no moon to light their path. But the brilliant white stars over head gave off more than enough light. They walked arm in arm, silent and brooding, not knowing what would happen in the future. They walked for some time until they reached half the way to Hogwarts where they met Dippet, two other teachers that Harry didn't know about, Tom Riddle, the head boy and the three students Jim, Attilio, and Alice. "Harry! You're okay!"

Harry nodded wordlessly, feeling his eyes drooping, all he wanted was some sleep.

"Come on, now," Dippet said uncomfortably as Alice hugged Harry, "Lets get you all in bed. A werewolf attack, Albus, I must say we have to do something about this lest we too be destroyed by Grindelwauld."

Albus nodded, "Precisely my thoughts."

"Shall we get the aurors?" Dippet said. They walked side by side, a little behind the three students. "Hagrid's dead. We found his body."

"I think… yes… let's get the aurors here."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hagrid… he was my friend," Dumbledore said. "I will go hunting."

"Grindelwauld?"

"Who else?" Dumbledore said.

Dippet flashed a vicious grin. "Wonderful!"

"I'm not doing this for revenge – I don't wish to avenge your family, or my friends either. I do this for the future victims," Dumbledore said grimly.

"Whatever you say," Dippet said. "Whatever you say, my friend Albus Dumbledore."

"I'll leave tomorrow morning."

"You are going to take your grandson?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said.

"What happened?"

"The werewolf bit him, and he changed."

"And where the hell is the moon?" Dippet said but he knew the answer. He had seen the red showers in the sky.

"Destroyed."

Dippet's eyes widened in amazement… "The power you have, Dumbledore, is extraordinary."

"I wish I didn't have it."

"But you are the only one who can destroy Grindelwauld. You know it, I know it, hell even your grandson must know it."

"Yes… he does."

"So tomorrow morning, huh?"

"I'll need funds."

"I'll give it," Dippet promised. "The entire Hogwarts savings is at your command, Albus."

"The ministry won't like it."

"To hell with the ministry," Dippet said. "You'll take my place after I retire, right?"

"Maybe."

"I hope so – then you can deal with this funding problems yourself."

"Of course."

"Now what?"

"I'll get a good night's sleep. I'll leave at dawn."

"Good luck Albus," Dippet said as he followed the two teachers and three students into Hogwarts' great doors.

"I'll need it," Dumbledore said. His eyes were fixed on an unseen point ahead, not looking at anything in particular but thinking, and making plans.

"You sure will," Dippet said. "I hope you return – successfully."

"I will be successful, I promise you that. But I might not return."

"Why not?"

"I might be dead."

Dippet's eyebrows rose. "Oh hell no, you are doing a suicide attack?"

"It's the only way I know to defeat a wizard as powerful as Grindelwauld."

"That will destroy half the world! Two men of your power blowing up…" Dippet gasped. "You can't do this!"

"That's why I always hesitated. But I have to, I think it's the only way."

"A suicide attack… there must be another way."

"I don't know any other way," Dumbledore said. "Good night, Dippet," he said and went in the opposite direction to his own quarters, knowing that Mr. Harry Potter would be sent to the hospital wing.

He had a plan alright, and it was suicidal… but he wasn't the one who would blow himself up.

He saw this as fate – Harry Potter would sacrifice himself to defeat Grindelwauld.

It was the only way. If he did this the damage would be too great but Harry was just Harry, he was of average magical strength. Dumbledore sensed this with his magical intuition and he knew that while Harry was average he also had a strong will. And he was good. He would do it.

---

Dumbledore's quarters: darkly lit, the only light coming from giant windows that overlooked the lake, lots of statues of famous beasts on the side walls, a giant red bed, very comfortable, two desks and chairs each suiting a different purpose – one was for his magical studies, one for his muggle studies, two shelves beside each desk, a very large washroom through a side door, and hardwood floors.

Dumbledore packed his bags at six that morning, just one bag that he filled with all the essentials: two pairs of work jeans, a pair of boots, two shirts, and a few extra wands he had acquired over the years. Then he went out of his bedroom and into the hallway, examined the paintings and the armors standing at the ends of the walls with a critical eye. As he walked to the medical ward he tried to remember Hogwarts because he doubted he would see it again – so many things could go wrong with his plan, so many ways things could just go squash. No, it was best if he gave up all hope.

He entered the medical wing, smelled the medicine smell that he always hated and looked around. Medical ward: fourteen beds lined up symmetrically, neatly pressed bedsheets folded on the bedspread, fluffed pillows, all done by magic, floor tiles waxed clean, windows at the side overlooking the Quidditch pitch.. In one of the far beds lay Harry Potter, sleeping like an angel.

Dumbledore walked over to him and placed his garnled old hand on Harry's hot forehead. The boy's eyes instantly shot open, revealing emerald green eyes that looked bright and suspicious. "Albus?" Harry said, getting up. "What do you want? What happened last night? What-"

"Hush child." Albus said and fished through his pockets. He wore a cassock which was a kind of purple robe and had big pockets. Fishing through them, he pulled out an extra wand – yew wood, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, good for transfiguration. "Here you go, a wand." He said and tossed the wand in Harry's outstretched hands.

"Err… thanks," Harry said and waved the wand, golden sparks shot out. "This seems nice enough to work."

"It will do," Dumbledore said. "Get up and follow me."

Harry shot to his feet, "Where are we going?" He asked.

"Hunting." Dumbledore replied and would say no more to Harry's frequent questioning. When they were outside, he breathed in deep and looked around: bushes and vegetation everywhere, dragon grass growing wildly on the grounds, and the air smelt of salty water, like the beach… or the lake. It was perfect morning air, too bad Dumbledore couldn't enjoy it.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small brightly colored sock. "Grab this," he said. Harry grabbed it, Dumbledore said, "Portus," and they were off.

Harry didn't know what was going on but he had fallen into his old –and bad- habits of trusting Dumbledore. He hated portkeys, they reminded him of his fourth year. So with a bit of surprise he landed on all fours and got a good view of the apartment they were in: perfectly empty except for a window that overlooked the street outside. Harry got up. "What are we doing here?"

"Growth potion," Dumbledore said and put his backpack on the floor. It was black and looked like a normal school backpack that the students carried. Inside was potion ingredients and a shrunken cauldron.

Together, with Harry helping they brewed the growth potion, let it simmer in the cauldron for a few hours during which Dumbledore rolled a cigar and filled it from his tobacco pouch. He smoked in silence, one cigar after another, obviously deep in thought. Harry soon learnt that whatever questions he asked about what they were doing here, why they were here, etc. etc. was ignored so he too stayed in silence and he rested, sitting cross legged Indian style next to a white painted wall, closed his eyes, meditated.

He thought about last night, his memories and thoughts were all jumbled up and confusing so he proceeded to get them in order like a pensieve in his head he had. He examined each memory thoroughly and finally pieced together what he thought happened last night:

Full moon, it is night outside and they are walking through the forest. Who is walking with them? Alice… Jim… Atillio… Dumbledore… A younger Hagrid in front. Harry talks, full moon, howls in the forest somewhere far off. Dumbledore is a bit tense as if expecting something – perhaps he has a bad feeling about this night. Hagrid is cheerful, whistling to himself up ahead, cross bow shouldered on his arm.

A silver light from the trail up ahead. Harry doesn't notice it, or ignores it, doesn't know why. He talks to Alice about the Helix potion she made and doesn't notice the wolf until it is almost too late. 

With a howl the wolf leaps to Hagrid's throat, bites, scratches, tumbles around in the ground. Hagrid croaks, blood spurts out, he punches the wolf in the gut, the wolf doesn't feel it, bites Hagrid's face, arms, scratches and fights. Then he lets go and leaps toward Harry. Hagrid is dead, lying there, beady black eyes open and dead staring at nothing and everything at the same time.

The wolf leaps on all fours toward them. It is in the air, blocking the full moon, eyes red, snarling, drool from its fangs and mouth, black round nose wet and slobbery. Harry thinks on instinct, conjures brass shield, protects Alice and him from the wolf. Wolf tries to get at them, claws the shield, whines and howls. Dumbledore leaps into the battle, shooting a spell or two but his eyes are not on the wolf. They are looking around, darting back and forth as if looking for something. But what?

The wolf gets up, leaps over their shield toward Atillio and Jim. Atillio casts a spell, bright white light, wolf is on the ground, panting hard, but lots of energy bursting to get out.

Then it leaps again at Atillio, changes direction mid air almost like its flying, like a puppet on strings. Dumbledore turns his head to look at the wolf, eyes wide, blue eyes with no twinkle. Wolf attacks Harry. Wolf is coming right at him, so Harry punches it, thinking it will go far, thinking he is back in his own body which was strong, lean and muscular. But wolf anticipates punch and jaws open wide. Chomp! It bites down on the hand. There is pain, there is blood spurting out, vertigo, a feeling of the whole forest spinning around him… dizziness… blood… and then unconsciousness, no vision whatsoever. Everything is black but there is a voice that chants: Kill kill kill! And then he opens his eyes and sees a white masked demon, eight feet tall and as big as an oak tree, looking at him with no eyes but Harry can still feel his gaze. He has a sword, no two swords and wants to strike Harry but can't for some reason – "No soul, you have no soul boy, no soul!" the voice fades but Harry can still here its echo: "No soul… no soul… no soul…" Then there is a smaller man, wants to kill but is scared for some reason, and is that envy? That's envy. He is envious but why?

You cannot die… immortal… no soul. That echo, where is it coming from? Where is-

"Harry wake up! Wake up Harry!" Dumbledore shook Harry's shoulder, trying to wake the boy or man up from the nightmare he was having.

Harry's eyes shot open, "What happened?" He said at once. "Where is my hand?"

He looked at his right hand and sees it is normal, looks normal anyway. "What happened to my hand? Was last night only a dream?"

"No it wasn't," Dumbledore said, stopped shaking him on the shoulder and sat back down. "Last night was real. The potion is done." He pulls out tongs from his black bag, and inserts them into the steaming broiling liquid, pulls out a test tube filled with black thick liquid that looks like ink. "Here," Dumbledore said and put a cooling charm on it. "Drink up."

"What happened to my hand?" Harry asked again.

"Madame Rosmerta fixed it, you should be thankful we had the potions necessary to do it."

"What?"

"Drink the potion, Harry," Dumbledore said tiredly.

Harry glanced at the potion, noticed its boiling and bubbling, and quickly glanced away. He didn't want it. "I.. err…"

"Its not poison, come on for godsakes, drink up!"

"Okay fine," Harry said and grabbed the potion. He clenched his nose shut with his right hand that was as good as new and apparently fixed, and gulped the whole thing down. Chug chug chug, it tasted horrible.

He felt his body changing, his stomach gave a lurch like he was about to vomit and then all he felt was intense pain and black spots in his vision. Dumbledore looked down at him, concern etched on his face. He pushed the old man away and stumbled, falling down almost but he used the walls as support. He entered the bathroom: porcelain tiles, bright, clean, smelled like antiseptic, toilet bowl yellow because somebody forgot to flush, dirt stains on the white tub, no hanger sheet over the metal bar on top of the edge of the tub. Harry vomited in the basin, black spots cleared almost at once. He looked in the mirror, his face a little bluish white, some strands of hair grey, thick streaks of grey actually but otherwise he looked normal.

The potion hadn't worked. Why? Harry wondered.

Dumbledore came up behind him, tired and concerned at the same time. "What's wrong Harry?"

"The potion won't work," Harry said and felt sure of it. "No growth potion will work, Dumbledore. I can't change who I am."

"Why not?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore sharply. "It wasn't because of Madame Whatchamacallit's potions that my hand grew back was it?"

Dumbledore had the decency to look a bit ashamed. "I guessed it was, I didn't know for sure."

"I know for sure, I don't remember drinking any potions. Look, I'll show you."

He grabbed his wand from his waist belt, and muttered, "Severo!" a severing charm of the highest caliber cut through Harry's left pinky finger and severed it. Harry didn't even flinch from the pain, already well used to it. Blood spurted out.

"Good god, Harry, stop this at once." Dumbledore commanded but Harry ignored it.

"Flamero," Harry said and roasted the stub of the finger so the skin became hard like a band aid and no blood would leak.

"Wait, give it an hour or so and it will grow back. I think I know why this is happening."

"Harry…" Dumbledore muttered in awe. "Your streaks of grey in your hair, they are turning black again!"

"See, I told you. I can't change my form. You know what this means, right?"

"You are…"

"Immortal," Harry said flatly. "I can't be destroyed, only recreated. Do you know why?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

Harry smiled. "I have no soul."

Dumbledore flinched. "That's horrible."

"Yes it is, but think of it!" Grinning, Harry clenched his left hand into a fist and punched the wall. It hurt but he hardly noticed it. "I am invincible!"

"No, you are not. You can still feel pain, and, and," Dumbledore could barely go on. His next words were a whisper. "You cannot go on the next great adventure."

"But I can!" Harry said, eyes shimmering, glittering almost. "I don't know how I know this, but I do, if I get killed I will just appear again but in other universes. There are an infinity number of universes. I am indestructible!"

"You-you're a monster," Dumbledore blurted out before he could stop himself.

Harry's eyes grow cold. "I don't like this universe much. Let's go kill this Grindelwauld. Then I'm going to find my parents."

Dumbledore could say nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to my reviewers, panther and severussnapesgrl (I think). You might think I don't read those reviews or don't appreciate but I do. Thanks, you guys been a great help.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Harry stared out the window, looking at the rain hitting the pane and watching from the reflection of the window the inner room where Dumbledore was packing up his stuff. "What do you want me for?" he asked suddenly.

Dumbledore stood up from where he was crouching and rose his eyebrows, "What makes you think I need you?"

"I am free to leave?" Harry replied, knowing the answer was no.

"Not yet, I have a favour to ask you," Dumbledore said.

"So you do need me."

"Not particularly but with your help my job will be more convenient."

Harry pondered what to do, knowing whatever Dumbledore was about to ask would be painful and inconvenient. He sighed, he couldn't refuse the old man, not after what he had done for him in this life as well as the previous. "Fine, what is it?"

"I need to kill Grindelwauld. If I do it, I will die. If you do it-"

"I will also die."

"No," Dumbledore gently corrected. "You will go to another universe where everything will be perfect for you."

"You really believe that shite?"

"It came from your mouth," Dumbledore said. Then he sighed too, he was done packing his stuff. He shouldered his pack, walked behind Harry and put his arms on the boy's shoulders. "I know what I am going to ask from you might seem much but its for the greater good. Think of you coming here because you had a purpose to come here, because-"

"I have no soul, Albus!" Harry said sharply. "What purpose could I have? Even a bloody vampire has a soul. Not me though."

"You do have a soul… You just haven't found it."

"That's the cheesiest line ever, Dumbledore," Harry said. "I gave up my soul to come here, and for what? To kill Tom Riddle. But I can't even do that!"

"Because you are a good person inside here," Dumbledore said and lightly patted his own chest to prove his point even though Harry's back was turned.

"No, I am not, you don't know what I've done to-"

"We are human beings, not human doings," Dumbledore said. "You aren't what you do, Harry, you are who you are and you can't change that. I know you are a good person, just astray on your path."

"I am a terrible person Albus so shut it alright," Harry snapped. "Look, I understand what you want me to – wait, what is it you want me to do?"

"Its called a suicide attack. Basically you take your own life to nullify another person's life. You do this by drawing certain diagrams on your body, and using your magical core to channel into the drawings and explode. Basically you have to grab Grindelwauld in your arms and blow up."

"You're kidding?"

"Its easy to learn," Dumbledore offered. "There's even a monastery in Tibet that specializes in this attack. Its called the Black Rose Spell."

"I don't give a bloody hell what its called. I'm not doing it."

"Why not? You wont lose your life or anything."

"I don't know for sure though."

"You said so yourself, you are invincible."

"Well… I just don't want to do it. You want me to kill Grindelwauld, fine, I'll do it. My way."

"And what exactly is your way?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry flashed a viscous grin. "Total all out war." And that was that. They left two hours later for lunch, Albus pestering and trying to get Harry to change his mind. But Harry wouldn't. He had no need to do so. He knew what he could do; and he would do it too!

The coffee shop smelled funny for some reason. Harry looked around: well lit, lots of chairs and tables, a counter in the front, man there about 20 years old with short black hair and dark nervous eyes. It looked like it was his first day on the job. Harry's eyes moved across the man toward the portraits on the wall, they were scene scenery and one of them was the Grand Canyon in America. He felt an urge to visit, to just ignore this whole goddam business, roll down to America or whatever and live the rest of his life in peace. He was so tired of all this shit, he just wanted some sleep. But still he had a purpose here, is that what Albus said? Yeah, a purpose. Was he really a good person? He didn't know, he didn't care, but he didn't like the sounds of this Lord Grindelwauld, just like he hated Voldemort with a passion.

He would do it, he'd help Dumbledore kill Grindelwauld. Not because he wanted to, not because he had to but just because it felt RIGHT. And that was all that mattered, to do what felt right.

They sat down at a corner table and looked at the menu in silence. Dumbledore peered over the menu from his silver rimmed half moon glasses, looking with an expression that revealed nothing. "Well?" He said. "What is your way? Your plan?"

"I already told you," Harry said, "Total war."

Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Grindelwauld's in hiding, how will you fight him if you can't see him in the first place?"

"Easy," Harry said. "We have to draw him out, use bait."

Dumbledore frowned, "That's pretty smart, what kind of bait though?"

"That's where you come in," Harry said. "You know Grindelwauld best, you know what will attract him into our trap."

"No I don't know what will attract him, do you?"

"Well, I can guess," Harry said and shrugged. "Voldemort – that's Tom Riddle to you I suppose – wanted immortality and he came into Hogwarts to steal the philosopher's stone."

"So we do the same thing here? That won't work." Dumbledore said.

"Why not? It will work in my opinion. Doesn't Grindelwauld want immortality?"

"You don't understand, Grindelwauld is already immortal. He has his own spells to prevent himself from aging." Dumbledore said.

Harry stayed silent for several moments. Then he said, "Okay lets do it your way."

---- ONE YEAR LATER AFTER LOTS AND LOTS OF TRAINING ----

The trees waved through the air, all colours and hues from red leaves, to yellow, to orange to green. Not blue though. It was spring, the air smelled fresh, the sky above was cloudy, there was a wind that swept through the town square of a little village in the rural parts of Denmark. It was called Albergash.

Albergash had always been a farming and mining town. The youngsters took their father's profession – most of them anyway. There was a little school in the town square, about one big room sized and filled about a hundred students at most because that was about all the young folks there in the town. Next to the school stood a hospital and next to that a factory, ruddy and broken down but still pumping out metal bolts every few weeks. Harry stood in the middle of the square, looking at nothing, looking at everything and most of all looking for Grindelwauld. This was the place he had set up camp supposedly according to a tip. Beside him stood Dumbledore dressed in a white sweat shirt and faded jeans, looking out of place with the white beard and all. "Are you ready to do this, Harry?"

"We practiced with those monks right?" Harry said. "I wasted a whole year doing that shit, of course I am ready."

"Good, because here he comes."

Dumbledore didn't look like Dumbledore from before, he was virtually unrecognizable: he was tanned, bald completely and wearing brown coloured contacts. He looked nothing like Dumbledore because his beard was short and neatly trimmed and he didn't wore those trademark half moon glasses anymore. Likewise Harry also looked different, still five years old – nothing he tried could ever change that and he had tried a lot of things too because those monks in that mountain were damn smart and new a lot of tricks and ways. But none of that worked and so Harry simply accepted that he was five years old and kind of hoped he was going to be older in the next universe. He wasn't scared of death in fact all this felt like deja view and he would be so happy when he got into another universe. He really did want to meet his parents.

He wore a dark blue cloak, his skull was shaved and on it there was a spider drawing. Over his eye brows there were more spider drawings: three of them, all staring straight ahead, inanimated. Under his robe he also had a lot of more spider drawings. All those spiders would channel the energy into the big ass explosion that would take Grindelwauld out of the world: or at least that was what Harry hoped.

As Grindelwauld approached, thinking that these two wanted to join him, he looked just like that person in the dream, or was it a dream? All he knew was that there was a big demon in there too, with a mask the color of bone or parchment and eyes red.

Harry felt a shiver go through his back as he stared at the hard dark figure that walked slowly and deliberately toward them. The figure was dressed in pure black and his face was really wrinkled too, he wore a big white beard, moustache, lots of facial hair. His sadals were weird though, they were brown and old ones. Why was Grindelwauld wearing sandles?

Then they were only ten feet away from each other and Grindelwauld stopped, "Are you the two who want to join my organization?"

"Yes, Harry, hit it."

Harry smirked and moved fast, he had prepared for this almost a year every hour of the day. He moved like lightning, bolted toward Grindelwauld who stumbled back. Harry hugged him. Comprehension dawned on Grindelwauld's face.

"Oh hell no-":

"ZAMACA HIERI!" Harry screamed, grimaced. The spiders started glowing all around his body, and started moving too and then there was a pop as Dumbledore apparrated out. Harry was all alone with Grindelwauld.

"No, no!" Grindelwauld screamed and tried to get out but Harry's grip was firm. The spiders glowed more and more and more until…

BOOM!

There was a big explosion. Grindelwauld was dead, Harry was gone, and Dumbledore got the credit for Grindelwauld's defeat.

----------

He was in a purple vortex, moving at blinding speeds toward a golden white light at the end of the purple tunnel. The tunnel walls seemed triangular and moved around a lot, swaying right and left. Then it became red, and then white, and then black, and brown and back to purple again. He hit the golden white spot and his vision cleared and he saw he was in a room: It was small, like Dudley's small room, and had two chairs and one table between them. On the table there was a teapot and two tea cups, both white.

And nobody else was there but Harry got the message. He walked into the room, closed the door behind him, the door disappeared and melted into white walls and then he sat down at the front chair. He sat and sat, tapping his fingers on the table: hardwood, light brown.

He stared at the teapot, felt thirsty, touched it hesitatingly, poured a cup, drank. Nothing happened. Then the door opened again and a black old man, about seventy years old, dressed in a pale white suit entered. He wore sunglasses and carried a blind stick – he was blind.

"Err… hello," Harry said.

"Why, hello there, Harry Potter," the man said, smiling lightly as he stumbled his way toward the chair. Slowly he sat. "Can you pour me a teacup?"

"Sure," Harry said amiably. He didn't know why but as soon as the man entered the room his body felt light and he felt strangely happy. "Who… I mean, what's your name?" Harry said as he poured. The tea was light brown, and tasted bitter but sweet at the same time.

"My name?" The man chuckled. "Nobody's asked me that in ages. Well, I'll tell you young man, but before I do, answer me a question."

"Um, okay?" Harry said, unsure.

"Harry, why did you sacrifice yourself to kill Grindelwauld?"

"I-how did you know about that?"

"Just answer the question," the man said. "Come on, it won't hurt. Might even make you feel better."

"I dunno why, it just felt right to do it I guess. I can't explain it."

"That's okay, its unexplainable but I'll tell you why. Inside, you are good. Outside, you are corrupted."

Harry frowned. "Okay, fine, who are you? Where am I?"

"You, Mr. Potter, are in my home."

"What?"

The man acted as if he hadn't heard him, "and I am known as… God."

"God?"

"God."

"God?" Harry asked again, thinking this was too surreal.

"God." The man repeated. "Have you ever prayed to me, Harry?"

"No." Harry said and started to stand up. "I'm not your type, God." Harry said mockingly. "I have an appointment to keep with a Mr. Satan, you see, so bye."

"Sit down, Harry," God said firmly, his kind and friendly mood gone in a flash. His eyes glowed behind those black sunglasses.

Harry sat down, partly scared, partly curious. "What do you want me for?"

"You have no soul," God said, sighed, sipped his tea. "So I have a deal to make you…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, your soul, I'll sell it to you."

"What price?"

"You need to do me a favour."

"Go on," Harry said, leaning forward, wondering if this was real, his tea forgotten.

"Drink your tea first," God said.

Harry felt his left eyebrow rise. What the hell was God playing at? He looked at his teacup, took it in his hand, felt the lukewarm temperature, drank. He drained the whole cup. God put a disconterned expression on his face.

"That's not how you drink tea, Mr. Potter, you have to enjoy it."

"I did enjoy it," Harry lied. "Now tell me more."

"Okay fine, I need you to… drink your tea." God said and snapped his fingers. The teapot floated up in the air, poured back in his cup refilling it. "This time, try to enjoy it."

"Fine," Harry said, eager to get this uncomfortable meeting over with. For some reason he didn't doubt this was really God, it just FELT like it was. He drank, slow and deep and tried to taste the tea. God was right; he did enjoy it.

"Well? How was it?"

"Good," Harry said. "Is this it? Do I get my soul back?"

"No. I haven't gotten to the main part yet. Now… my favour…" The old man pulled out a cigar from his vest pocket and it lit on its own. He puffed deep, exhaled smoke in Harry's face, and said…

"One thousand."

Then nothing.

"What? What do you mean one thousand?"

"I need you to do one thousand missions exactly, and yes they are missions: I need you to go in each universe, eradicate evil, maintain the balance, get out and go on your next mission."

"One thousand missions?"

"Yes."

"Okay and if I do it all I'll earn my soul back?" Harry asked, incredulous. This felt like a dream.

"Yes," God said. "I'll give you your soul back if you can do it for me. What do you say?"

"I'll…" Was it worth it? To have his soul back? Maybe. Why not, yeah he did want his soul back. "Fine I'll do it."

"Excellent," God said and handed him a sheet of white paper, something was typed on it. "Here's the data for your first mission. Good luck." Then he snapped his fingers and the room darkened. Harry was back in that purple vortex, this time traveling to a blue light far off into the distance….

FOR HIS FIRST MISSION.

-----

Harry woke up on cold gravel, tasting mud in his dry mouth and looking at the sky all he could see were cold grey clouds that moved like turtles across the unseen sky. Where was he? He didn't know. He looked around, saw the ground first which was pure black and then the rest of the island: There was a castle further along the shore, almost at the other side of the island for the island was small and the ocean furious. The castle seemed dark, grim and foreboding. Its walls were pure black, its gates had heads spiked on to them, its windows were tainted red with dried caked blood. Harry gulped, felt a rush of fear go up his spine, and then he felt a bit of paper clenched beneath his left fist. He looked at his fist for a few seconds, opened it, saw old yellow parchment and gasped as the memories came rushing back.

Was that god stuff real? Did it really happen? It felt like a dream… Reluctantly he opened the paper and saw typed writing on it which he read aloud to himself:

Dear Mr. Potter,

For your first mission as a Knight of the Light, you will be transported to Slytherin's Castle where you have to face and battle this evil monster and destroy him. If you fail to do so, you will suffer in hell for all eternity, your soul lost. God does not accept failure.

Yours,

God's Son,

Jesus Christ

Reading this short note, he gasped. What… the… hell… was… this? Jesus Christ? That guy really existed? No bloody way. Harry groaned to himself feeling a headache take hold of him in its vice like grip. Oh hell no, so he had to do a thousand missions and then he would get his soul back? And then what?

He looked at the piece of paper again and his eyes widened in amazement as he saw the writing change on it. Now it read:

P.S: Once you are done with your missions you can have your choice of which world and which time you want to live in, and with your soul too. Doesn't that sound fun?

Harry grinned, this was more like it. He had no wish to be immortal; didn't see the point, he wasn't afraid of death or anything. So he had to earn his way to the good life right? Well he knew just the way to do it: FAST.

Time to burn those candles at both ends, my man, he thought to himself. Then on the heels of that: Oh damn I don't have a wand.

In fact that was when he noticed he was completely naked.

Oh hell no.

"Jesus, gimme some clothes," he muttered and to his surprise clothes appeared on him out of nowhere or maybe everywhere as all the molecules converged and- he didn't know, had no clue but now he had clothes: monk robes, brown, ugly, mustard stain on the left shoulder and very itchy. Might be termites too. He looked at the paper again:

"Knights of the Light must be simple, humble, kind and chivalrous. Remember that… Sir Potter."

"I will, Jesus Christ," Harry said and felt like laughing out. This was stupid, like out of a drunken crack addict's fooling around late at night on his typewriter, or maybe a Stephen King novel. "So I still need a wand. Think you can gimme my old one? Holly and Phoenix feather, thirteen inches."

As if by magic, or by a miracle, a wand appeared, it was the same wand he always had. His wand. He grabbed it off the ground and waved it around, sparks shot out: gold, red, green, black, the sparks shined with such bright colour that Harry had to shield his eyes away from the light. His wand was sure happy to see him.

"Okay, lock and load, Mr. Potter," he said to himself and climbed forward, noticing with wry amusement that he also had on some Nike sneakers. It seemed Jesus Christ had a sense of humor. But then why couldn't he just do all this crap by himself? He glanced at the paper as if searching for an answer and he got one:

"I cannot directly tamper with the universes, you know, so as to keep the balance. You see, I am not the only champion of God, and there isn't just one god either. There are many, and all are equally powerful and all want to maintain the balance." –Jesus.

"That makes sense, thanks Jesus," Harry said aloud as he walked to the castle gates.

"Hello!" He shouted. "Open up!"

No answer.

Harry waited for ten minutes, noticing with uncomfortable fear the heads on the spikes of the gates, they were green and rotting, blood dried, eyes flung out and thrown on the ground. Slytherin sure was a crazy man, huh? Why did he want heads on his castle? Probably going for the whole scary look, Harry thought.

'Okay, time to do this myself,' he said to himself and rolled up the sleeves of his brown monk robe. Then he grabbed his wand from behind his ear, which was where he put it, and waved it in the air, "Wingardium leviosa!" He said and rose in the air, floating like a balloon.

Slowly he let the wind take him over the fence but as soon as he landed on the ground he received the shock of his life: literally. Two thousand volts of electricity coursed through him, intense pain, black spots in his vision, being roasted alive, but no death. He had no soul, he was immortal but he could feel pain.

As if on instinct he kinda felt something new on that parchment he was holding, God's parchment, he called it in his mind, and so he looked at it.

"P.S: You can die."

"Dammit, just had to ruin my fun," Harry said. "If I die I fail right?" He asked himself, already knowing the answer, which was yes.

Then a voice called from the windows, it was a high baritone that sounded like Voldemort and Uncle Vernon mixed: "WHO DARES TRESPASS ON SLYTHERIN'S CASTLE?"

"It is I, Harry Potter," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he did so. It sounded so forced but he wanted to stall. He was kinda scared, though he didn't want to admit it to himself.

"VERY WELL, WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE HERE?" the voice said but this time it came from another direction of the castle, through another red blood tinted glass window. This time lower, and closer.

Uh oh, he's coming. Harry thought. "I want to sell you something," Harry lied.

"LIKE WHAT?" the voice asked.

"ULTIMATE POWER!" Harry screamed. "Its in a gem, come here and I'll show it to you."

"VERY WELL, BUT YOU BETTER NOT TRY TO TRICK ME. I HATE TRICKSTERS, LIKE THAT DAMN GRYFINDOR. ARE YOU A GRYFINDOR BOY?" This time he was right behind the door. Damn, Slytherin moved fast, Harry thought.

"No, of course not." Harry said. "Come out here, nice and easy. If you surprise me the gem will blow up."

The door opened, revealing a figure clad in black with shiny ruby eyes.

"Why do all the evil guys have red eyes…?" Harry wondered to himself as he raised his wand and shot off his best spell: "Avada Kedavra!"

Slytherin easily side stepped it. "So it is a trick, I thought so. Let's respond in kind, shall we? Imperio!"

Harry felt a sense of peace invade him and it was so strong, much stronger than any other imperio curse he had ever felt. He almost couldn't resist it but he pulled through in the end and shook the curse off.

The duel was on!


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Harry ducked under an oncoming spell. The beam of purple light smashed at the gates behind him, melting the rusted metal and sizzling, giving off a faint copper wift in the air. The sky was the colour of wet cement, the ground the color of the darkest coal and Slytherin the color of evil, if there was one. But Harry could sense a certain resonance coming from Lord Slytherin that transcended that of Voldemort or Grindelwauld. He had presence, but he had what all other dark lords lacked: a feeling of security. You could smell the confidence off him, the oozing arrogance and the sure way he was just playing with you like a cat playing with her food.

They traded curses back and forth in silence for a few minutes as each tried to gauge the other's skill level. Harry had to say: Slytherin was loads better than Voldemort, Harry could barely keep up with him.

"You are weak, boy, and not only that but you lack grace." Slytherin said. He was thin, long, wore plain black robes, had brown hair and red eyes and pasty white skin. "You must be like water." He stopped firing off rapid spells and breathed in deep. "Concentrate on your inner energy and just let it flow."

"Giving me tips are you?" Harry said. "Basikaro." He fired off a spell that wouldd turn Slytherin's body into a bundle of nerves. He dodged and shot back his own spell, a harmless stunner that whizzed by Harry's left ear.

"You will need them… boy," Slytherin sneered and moved so he was just a blur of his black cloak. One second he stood twenty feet away from Harry and the next he was right in front of Harry.

Slytherin raised a hand and backhanded Harry across the face. Harry tasted blood in his mouth as he fell to the ground. He ducked under a spell, dodged and weaved and rolled over as he fired off a simple stunner at Slytherin. "I will kill you." He said grimly as he stood up.

There was a lull in the battle as they both regarded each other with a critical eye. "That so?" Slytherin asked, mouth quiverin as he tried not to smile. "Pathetic. I should end it for you right now. Avada Ke-"

His eyes widened.

He laughed.

"This is wonderful! You have no soul do you?"

Harry scowled, "How do you know about that?"

Slytherin said nothing and he just laughed. Then he looked at Harry, dodged from the stunner Harry sent along his way and pocketed his wand. "Come on now, we should be friends."

"Friends?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Who put you up to this task? Who was it? Gryfindor? Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it."

"You really want to know?" Harry said as he stopped to get his breath back.

"Indeed I do, so why don't we sit down over a nice mug of ale in front of a hot fire and tell each other stories?"

"I… the offer is tempting, believe me," Harry said. "But I don't think I'm allowed. Wait hold on." He checked his pocket and pulled out that sheet of paper God had given him. On it, there was only one word: Go.

"Sure, lets do this." Harry said.

"First, an act of trust." Slytherin said and held out his hand. "Give me your wand."

Harry's eyes widened in incredulous amazement. "Fuck off, you can't expect me to really give you my wand right?"

"But I do, I can't have you killing me in your sleep."

Harry thought for a second: Jesus said go, he should go, trust the lord and all that. "Okay fine, lets go." He thrust the wand into Slytherin's outstretched hand. Slytherin smiled and did an about turn. "Follow me please," he said and walked into the castle.

Harry frowned and thought: "Can I kill him in hand to hand combat?" and on the heels of that: "What does he want from me anyways."

Slytherin led Harry through stark hallways, the walls painted a dull gray colour, the same color as the sky. He stopped in front of two double giant doors and turned to Harry. "After you, after all you are my guest."

Harry smiled a fake smile and went in, eyes narrowed in suspicion, body tensed and alert for any signs of Slytherin moving.

'Come on, come on, sit down by the fire." Slytherin said and pointed to two armchairs, brown, old, in front of a grate of hot still burning coals. Slytherin snapped his fingers and the coals erupted into a great big burning fire.

"Okay, so what do you want me for? I mean… why this?" Harry said as he relaxed into the chair.

"Normally I kill all my visitors. You are special."

"Lucky me," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, cut the crap. You want something."

"You are a hitman, right? An assassin?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not missing a beat. "What's up? After I kill you, you want me to hit someone else?"

Slytherin smiled softly, "You won't be able to kill me. Tell me who hired you."

"What for?"

"Ten thousand gold coins are hidden beneath this floor board." Slytherin said and tapped the hard wood floors. Harry noted the spot he tapped with interest. "If you kill me you can keep this. Until then, there's no harm in telling me… right?"

"I suppose not," Harry admitted. "It was Gryfindor." He lied.

"I knew it!" Slytherin said, glaring. "I hate that bastard. I'm going to kill him."

"I think you have more immediate problems right now," Harry said.

"From you?" Slytherin scoffed. "I have your wand boy, how dumb do you think I am?'

"Oh yeah," Harry said and grinned. "Jesus, wand please."

No answer. Nothing happened. "Jesus… I need my wand."

"This is it?" Slytherin asked.

"No wait a minute," Harry said and pulled out that sheet of paper. On it, Jesus wrote in spidery handwriting:

"Can't help you – fighing satan at the moment."

"Oh damn," Harry groaned. "You know what, I'm willing to call this whole thing off if you can match what Gryfindor is paying me."

"No…" Slytherin said.

"I'll even kill Gryfindor as a special bonus."

"Okay fine," Slytherin happily agreed. "How much do you need?"

"Ten thousand gold coins," Harry said. He couldn't believe his luck. What was wrong with Slytherin? Messed up in the head or something?

"Sure, I have it right here," Slytherin said and tapped the floorboard.

"Well, thanks, can you dig it out for me?" Harry asked. "And my wand too."

"Why not?" Slytherin said, shrugging. He reached into his pocket, waved his wand and the floorboard flew upward into the air like a rocket, revealing a wooden trunk the size of a modern day radio. He levitated the trunk toward Harry and then tossed Harry's wand back.

"I'll get to it right away." Harry promised as he took the two items. The trunk had a black handlebar which he used to carry it outside. Slytherin followed. "Give Gryfindor my best wishes, assassin."

"I will," Harry promised, not believing the ridiculousness of this world.

And so began his thousand missions – he learned a lot, learned how to be happy and optimistic all the time no matter what the situation. He learnt how to be humble and how to deal with any situation, he learnt how to fight, how to kill, he learnt many languages, he learnt a lot and became wise and strong as he moved deftly between world to world accomplishing all his missions with precision and cold calculation.

Then he was done.

His last mission had been simple enough: track down a vicous magical serial killer that had the whole world on its toes, much worse than Voldemort.

He had done it and now he was done everything.

All his missions.

Now he had his soul back – or would get it soon.

He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep…

When he opened his eyes he was in a familiar white room, small, two chairs, one table. Jesus Christ sat on the first chair, dressed in a pearly white robe. Harry went and sat in the other chair. "Where's my soul?" He asked.

Jesus smiled, "you get more than that you know. Your soul as well as a world of your choice."

'Okay, I want a world where my parents are alive and where I am eleven years old. I want to be small, powerless and I want the world itself to be a happy place with no Voldemorts or anything."

"You want to be small? Powerless?" Jesus asked.

"Yes I do."

"But why?" Jesus asked.

"Because… because I'm tired of all this fighting, every day every night. I just wannt peace for the rest of my life – I don't even want these memories. I just want to live normally. Do you understand, Jesus?'

"I think I do," Jesus said. "I think I do Harry. Okay fine, I'll help you out here. Your family… The potters… do you want sibliings?"

Harry grinned. "As many as possible." He answered.

"How does two sisters and one older brother sound?"

"The sisters, they have to be twins. And mischevious too." Harry said. "I want to be as pathetic as possible. I know it sounds crazy but I just do alright?'

Jesus nodded. He conjured a pad and a paper and started scribbling furiously on it. "Are you sure though? You even want to lose your memories? You won't be the same person anymore then."

"I'm sure." Harry said grimly. "Damn I'm sure, its been hell for these past years, doing all sorts of dangerous missions. This is my retirement alright."

"Okay Harry," Jesus said and smiled. "Good luck in your new home."

"Yah, thanks," Harry said.

Jesus clapped his hands. Once. Twice. Thrice. Slowly Harry's vision faded, he smiled, as his existance as he knew it was vapourized.

It was time to start a new life…

A happier life…

Jesus had other plans though and instead put him in a life that would start off peaceful… but soon conflict will emerge in the form of Lord Dumbledore and Headmaster Riddle would be the standing between the evil Albus Dumbledore and the light side.

Jesus smiled. It was fun to mess around with souls like that.

----

HARRY POTTER AND THE NEW LIFE…. CONCENTRATION GRADIENT PART TWO.

CHANGES: TENSE CHANGE, NOW IN FIRST PERSON.

00000000

I like pancakes a lot, and my mom makes them every morning. Then when I have a good breakfast I go play quidditch till about noon with Matt, my older brother, and Lisa and Berinneta, my two twin sisters. Matt's in Hogwarts now, third year so I only get to see him in the summers. But its okay, I don't like him much anyway. He thinks so highly of himself, always has his nose in a book like a damn ravenclaw.

Not me though. I'm going to be hufflepuff. I knew it the minute I read about it in Hogwarts a History. That's me. I don't have any special talents, I really don't. I'm bad at quidditch, bad at my education (mom teaches us at home) and really really REALLY bad at magic. The only spell I can do is lumos and maybe a levitation charm. And that's after a long time of training. Mom and Dad have sort of given up on me now. I heard them one night talking about me. I had to go to the bathroom so I sneaked downstairs and I heard them. I really did. They said….

"Harry is terrible at magic and you know it," Lily (my mom) said tiredly over a cup of coffee. They were sitting side by side on the purple sofa in the den. It's a really old sofa, all torn and ripped up but it was my dad's (James Potter) mother's so we gotta keep it even though mom hates it a lot.

"He'll get better, Lily," James said as he stroked mom's red hair. "Don't worry about him. We have more important matters to discuss anyway."

"Like what?" Lily asked.

"Like this," James said and kissed her on the lips. Yup, pretty disgusting stuff and after I made the customary disgusted face I started to sneak up back the stairs when I heard mom say… "I'm afraid, James. What if the prophecy-"

"He'll be fine Lily, what do you have to worry about?" James said.

"You know what the prophecy said, Headmaster Riddle told us about it the other night. Don't tell me you forgot."

"Prophecies are stupid," James said, scowling. "Trelawnway's a fraud and you know it."

"Maybe but if Riddle said the prophecy was a real one, well I believe him." Lily said and sighed. Then she started repeating as if she were reading us poetry:

"_When the three stars align at the right moment, _

_And the great warrior of the thousand stars repent, _

_Only then can the world be saved, _

_Only then can the dark lord be flayed,_

_The great warrior… born as the seventh month dies, _

_Surrounded in a shroud of dream like lies." _

James rolled his eyes. "What a bunch of crap."

"I'm serious James!" Lily said and she got this glare in her eyes. Nobody argued with her when she got that glare; nobody dared.

"Okay fine, so what do we do about it? It could be Neville who's this great warrior. He was born as the seventh month dies too. It can't be just Harry."

"But what if it is?" Lily said. "Harry can barely do any spell. He can't run, he can't do wandless magic, his potions work is terrible, his intelligence level is average, his flying skills is-"

"Okay I get it," James said, annoyed this time. "Harry might not be good at this stuff. He might not have a lot of talents, but dammit, he's a Potter and all Potters are great warriors."

"Keep your voice down," Lily said. "I'm not saying he's not special, I love him so much, I really do."

"So what's the problem?" James asked.

"Well… great warriors fight right? I know for a fact that if Harry gets in a fight with any of Dumbledore's Death Eaters, he won't survive."

"It will be fine," James said. "It will be. Just trust me alright?"

"You know what house he wants to go to when he gets to Hogwarts?"

"What?"

"Hufflepuff."

James burst out laughing. "Him? A hufflepuff? Couldn't be, he's a Potter. All Potters go to Gryfindor… except Matt of course." James hastily added. "The twins will go into Gryfindor for sure, or maybe even Slytherin. They are cunning!"

"I'm talking about Harry," Lily said. "If he's the one in the prophecy… we're all done for and you know it."

"So what should we do?"

Lily rubbed her forehead, making little circles. "I don't know, James, I just don't know."

That's when I went up. My head was spinning with all this. What did it mean? What did the damn prophecy mean? I decided to write it down but my mind started getting muddled – and I have an excuse for that too, it was four a.m in the morning. James is an auror, no idea what he's doing up so long for.

I pulled a pad and a paper from my desk drawer and scribbled down the prophecy. I suppose now would be a good time to describe the room, huh? Well, my bed's alright, its got big red covers that are very fluffy like animal fur or something but I know that's not it because Lily hates animals to get killed so she would never buy that and when she's not doing her research for the ministry of magic she runs the house so I know for sure it isn't animal fur. Must be fake. My bed's my favorite spot in the whole house, except for the balcony arm chair though. That's a rocking armchair, its so fun to go out with a glass of lemonade and watch the sunset. I do it every night all year round, never missing one sunset.

Its my favorite hobby I must say. That and collecting rocks. I think I have the biggest rock collection in the world. My shoebox is magically enlarged and filled with thousands of rocks which I've collected whenever we've been on vacation and believe you me, we go on a lot of trips: Turkey, Paris, London, Hong Kong, Alberta, Toronto, New York, we've been all over the world and rocks are the only souvenirs I bother to get back. The shoebox is a nice black color, the same color as the color of my shoes and rests at the foot of my big bed on the plush turquoise carpets. The walls are also a kind of sky blue, I painted it myself. I like to draw and paint even though I am really bad at it, but I don't care, it kills time so its alright.

Now you might think I have no friends and that's true. We live on a farm. The nearest neighbor is a mile away. But mom takes us to parites and all, and I've met a few wizards my age like Neville, my best friend or Draco Malfoy, my worst enemy.

I scribbled the prophecy down on the pad of paper and stuck it under my bed. Then I sighed, boy I was tired. I yawned, drank a glass of water from the always refilling magical glass of water on the little stool next to my bed where my holly and phoenix feather wand lay. It came from the same phoenix Riddle has, Fawkes. Riddle's Hogwart's headmaster, old, eccentric, and once apprenticed to Albus Dumbledore, the evil dark lord who everyone's afraid to say his name. My family isn't though, we are cool like that.

I got into the covers, pulled it to my chest, snapped my fingers and the light shut off. Then I closed my eyes and prepared to sleep but I found I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about the prophecy, it weighed on my mind like a heavy… thing. I dunno, all I'm trying to say is that I was thinking of the prophecy, tossing and turning, and I was wondering:

Dark Lord is obviously Albus Dumbledore. But whose the great warrior? Is it… and this thought brought shivers up my spine. Good ones, adventurish ones. Is it me?

I kinda hoped it was. I am not the adventurous type, I'll tell you that. In fact I don't hunt after adventure at all. Remember, I am the hufflepuff of the family – hard working, loyal, that's about it.

II work hard though, I'll tell you that. Everything I do, I try my best and I never laze around like Matt, or the twins who are a year younger than me. I couldn't wait to go to my house, Hufflepuff. That would be scary, getting sorted though. Matt told me there were trolls.

The really scary thing however was that I was going to Hogwarts in one week! I tossed and turned, thought about the prophecy, Hogwarts, and then somehow I got to sleep. A deep and uneasy sleep.

I had a nightmare.

It was about some guy named Voldemort.

I forgot most of it when I woke up though.


End file.
